


A Flame and Burning Coals

by Rikkichi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Masturbation, Slow Burn, Soulmates, it's mostly canon but with soulmate shenanigans, soulmate-related sex shenanigans, soulmates share emotions in this AU, technically there is some Reaper76 content but it is not a major focus of the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikkichi/pseuds/Rikkichi
Summary: Everyone is born with a soulmate, and every pair of soulmates is different. Some are best friends, together through thick and thin. Some are lovers, bound together until they breathe their last breaths. Some are close allies, relying on each other for anything they might need. And some are bitter enemies, unable to reconcile their differences despite the bond they share. You see, the bond of a soulmate doesn't guarantee a happy coupling, just an emotional one. Just as things might go right, they could go so very wrong as well. With hearts laid bare to each other, they can't keep secrets from one another, and that can easily lead to disaster.This is the story of Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada as they try to navigate that bond and figure out just what they mean to each other.(More tags will be added as characters and relationships come up in later chapters.)





	1. The first time

Hanzo was 11 when he first felt the connection.

It was late at night, or possibly very early in the morning. Hanzo wasn't sure which, as he hadn't bothered to look at the clock. A glance out his window told him that it was still dark out, with no sign of the coming morning on the horizon yet. And truthfully, that was all he could manage at that moment, what with how he was in a blind panic and all.

He didn't understand what was happening to him. He hadn't had a nightmare, in fact his sleep had been dreamless that night. But he had awoken with a start, his breaths coming in short bursts, his chest squeezing tightly. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, and he had to curl in on himself and bite back the short sobs that he was sure would wake up the rest of the household. It hurt so badly, and in a way he had never felt before. Why did he hurt so much? Was he dying? 

(It was grief, he figured out much later. That indescribable feeling was grief.)

Hanzo stayed in bed for what felt like an eternity as he tried to calm himself down. He repeated one of the many mantras about self-control and perseverance that he had been taught by his family, trying to get his errant feelings under control. But for the longest time, nothing seemed to work. It wasn't until the horizon turned light, signaling the approach of the morning, that the pain finally started to dull. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain disappeared entirely. His face still stung, but that was from the tears he had already cried.

Confused, Hanzo sat up in bed and rubbed at his face. What in the world had just happened to him?

Much later in the day, when he had finished with school for the day and had returned home for archery training, he finally broached the subject with his mother. She was strict, just as his father was, but she would at least consider his questions and answer some of them. Provided she did not deem them silly, of course. But that was a risk Hanzo was willing to take, because he wanted answers for this. "Mother?"

"Hmm?" She was stringing her bow, preparing it for the afternoon practice, but she paused to listen to Hanzo. "What is it?"

Hanzo had spent most of the day debating over how to approach the subject, but ultimately he had decided on the straightforward approach. His mother never liked it when he started with a story. "Last night my chest hurt, right here," he said, laying his free hand over where his heart was, "It was squeezing and it felt like I was going to die, but then it suddenly went away. What causes pain like that?"

Hanzo's mother considered him carefully. Her face was neutral, but he could tell that she was searching for some sign of foolishness within him. Apparently she decided that his question was genuine, because she said, "Did you have any reason to be hurting? A nightmare, perhaps?"

Hanzo shook his head. "No, there was no reason for it. That is why I ask."

Hanzo's mother pursed her lips together, a look that all too clearly spoke of displeasure on her part. But before Hanzo could speak again, she said, "Your promised person must have been in pain, then."

"'Promised person'?" Hanzo eyed his mother curiously. "What is that?"

"I didn't think you would need this talk so soon, most people do not feel the connection until they are teenagers. But…" She sighed, and then she set her bow aside. With her now-free hands, she indicated for Hanzo to step closer, which he did. Taking his hands into hers, she said, "Everyone is born with a person connected to them and them alone. This 'promised person' is someone destined to be important to you, because you two share a bond that can only be broken in death. They are the one person you can trust above anyone else, because their heart is known to you. Whatever they feel, you will feel, and vice versa."

"So…this is who I will marry someday," Hanzo asked.

"Not necessarily," his mother answered, "Some do get married, but many become friends, allies, business partners, or the like. Your father's promised person is a friend and close associate of the Shimada family; mine is the man who taught me archery. For both of us, our promised persons are friends, and friends only. What becomes of it is up to you."

Hanzo frowned as he thought about that point. "It…hurt, to be connected like that," he said finally, "Will it always hurt?"

"Hopefully not. This is the first time you felt that connection, yes?" She waited for a moment, and once Hanzo nodded, she continued. "That is how it usually starts: one of the pair feels a particularly strong emotion, and the other notices it. Until you meet in person, you will only feel the strongest of emotions, the ones that would normally overtake a person. Everyone would like for those feelings to be positive ones- joy, pride, accomplishment- but that is not always the case."

Hanzo's mother reached out to tuck a piece of Hanzo's hair behind his ear, an unusually intimate gesture from her. She must have been worried, he decided, because she was only ever gentle like this when she was worried. "Steel your emotions," she said, "And try to let only the best ones through. Let this person feel your pride as a Shimada, that is the kindest thing you can do to them until you meet them. If you meet them, that is."

"It is not guaranteed that I will?" 

"Nothing is guaranteed, my child. Most people never meet their promised person, and instead spend their whole lives exchanging emotions with each other. But you are a Shimada, and the Shimada family has been fortunate in these areas. If your promised person is to be found, then I have faith that you will find them." She pulled her hand away, and then she moved to pick up the bow again, signaling that the discussion was over.

Hanzo trained as he usually did, trying to clear his mind and focus only on where his arrows were meant to go. But his mind was buzzing with possibilities. He had a promised person? Someone he could trust above anyone else? What were they like? Was he promised to a strong man, someone who would become another ally of the Shimada clan? Or was he promised to a beautiful woman, who would eventually become his wife? What kind of future would they have together? Would they bring honor to the Shimada clan? Would Genji like them too? Would his family like them?

Then his thoughts turned to the previous night, to the pain that he had felt. What could have possibly happened to make his promised person so upset?

'I won't ever make them hurt like that,' Hanzo said silently to himself, 'Whoever this person is, when I find them, their days will be much better. I'll make sure of that.'

\---

Jesse was 13 the first time he felt the connection.

He knew what a soulmate was. His parents had been soulmates, and he had grown up surrounded by the love, affection, and understanding that came with such a deep bond. His mom and dad, they didn't even need to talk to each other to understand what the other was thinking. They just _knew_. And when they had pulled him aside when he was 8 and had finally explained the connection to him, it all made sense. Of course they were soulmates, what else would they be?

That made his father's death and his mother's subsequent disappearance all the harder to bear. It was as if everything he had known in life had been yanked out from underneath him, sending him falling into a pit of loneliness and despair. It had taken him months to feel even a bit better, with only his dreamless nights providing a break from the pain he felt at their loss.

He felt bad for his soulmate, whoever it was. That was probably the first time his soulmate had ever felt something from him, and it was such a painful feeling. He could only hope that it hadn't frightened them off entirely, and that when they did meet that he would get a chance to apologize for it.

But as the years passed and Jesse went without feeling anything from his soulmate, he grew resigned to the fact that his soulmate might just be too far away to feel anything. That, or he didn't have a soulmate. It was rare, but sometimes people were born without one at all. He tried not to think about that possibility too much, it was too much for him to handle. Better to think that his soulmate was out there and just too far away to feel anything than to think that he was without a soulmate all-together.

It was evening, just after dinner, when he finally felt it. He was helping his grandmother clear the table when suddenly his breath caught in his throat. It was so unexpected that he had to place a hand on the table to steady himself as the other clutched at the front of his shirt. His grandmother noticed the change in him immediately, and she set the stack of dirty plates down so she could reach for him, her hands gently taking him by the shoulders. "What is wrong," she said, her voice full of worry.

Jesse closed his eyes, trying to focus on that feeling he couldn't quite place. It definitely wasn't his, he had no reason to be so emotional over a normal dinner. It had to be his soulmate, he decided. They were real, and something was happening to them. He focused on the feeling, trying to put a name to it. It was warm, so warm that he felt like his chest was burning. But it was a good kind of burning, the kind that meant that everything was going to be okay, that everything was as it should have been. That all attention was on him, and that attention was welcome.

Pride, he realized. His soulmate was proud of something, and that pride was so immense that it was pulsing through the connection they had.

Jesse was abruptly aware of the fact that his face was wet, that the emotion was so overwhelming that he couldn't control his tears. But they were happy tears, at least. If nothing else, Jesse could find solace in the fact that his soulmate was experiencing something so wonderful.

"I'm fine," he said finally, "I…they're happy about something."

And that was all the explanation he needed to give; his grandmother understood immediately. "This is the first time, yes?" Jesse nodded, and she let out a cry of joy and kissed Jesse on the cheek before saying, "Then we must celebrate! Oh, I am so happy for you! I knew it would happen soon, but for it to be a good feeling like that…that is a blessing, you know. Happy feelings are a sign of a happy couple in the future."

Jesse laughed as he pulled away from his grandmother. The good feelings were bubbling out of him uncontrollably, his soulmate's happiness making him happy in return. "I haven't even met 'em yet," he said in protest, though he was smiling widely, "At least let me meet 'em before you play matchmaker!"

But despite his protests, Jesse had already decided that he would love this person, his soulmate. How could he not feel that way about them? It was the first time Jesse had felt so good in years. Even if that happiness was coming from someone else, it felt good to smile again. For the first time in ages, Jesse finally felt like everything would be okay.

'I'll treat 'em real special-like,' he said silently to himself, 'I'll be a good husband, They'll be proud to be soulmates with me. I'll make 'em feel like this every day, and we'll be in love, just like mom and dad were.'


	2. Teenagers tend to make a mess of things

From that day on, to Jesse's delight, the little bursts of emotions from his soulmate became a somewhat-regular occurrence. It didn't happen every day, of course; as his grandmother had explained it, only the most powerful of emotions would make it through their connection until they touched for the first time. But at least once every couple of weeks Jesse felt a swell of pride in his chest that wasn't his own, or a bite of smugness that could only mean that his soulmate had outsmarted someone. Whatever his soulmate was up to, it had to be important, what with how much pride he was taking in it. 

It made Jesse wonder if his soulmate was much older than him. Usually soulmates were within ten years of each other age-wise, but it wasn't unheard of for there to be large gaps. Jesse was only a teenager, but if his soulmate was older, then maybe they were already experiencing a lot of life's joys that Jesse wasn't old enough for yet. Maybe they had an important job, and every time they did something right they felt proud of themselves. Or maybe they were married with a family, and that sense of pride was because of their children, or their spouse, or something.

Actually, Jesse hoped that it wasn't that last one. Not all soulmates got married, but Jesse was already in love with his, and if he couldn't marry his soulmate then he would be crushed.

But as the years went by, Jesse found himself getting more responsibilities put onto his shoulders. First the rent went up, and his grandmother had to budget the money carefully to afford everything the small family needed. Then she got too sick to work, and they had to count every penny to make the savings last. Then the bank took all of that savings in 'overdraft fees' and 'maintenance fees', and suddenly Jesse had 30 days to come up with $1,000 or else he and his grandmother would be evicted. 

Maybe that's why he took a risk. Maybe that's why he started listening to rumors about a group called 'Deadlock'. Maybe that's why, when he saw the posting for 'good work = good pay' with an address leading to a seedier part of town, he decided to risk it. He needed to take care of his grandmother, and he couldn't rely on his soulmate for that. He had to grow up quickly and take responsibility.

"It's just for a little while," Jesse said quietly to himself as he stepped up to the door, "Just long enough to get some money stuck away. Then I'll cut ties with 'em and walk away."

\---

The connection seemed to grow stronger as time went on, or so Hanzo noticed. Several years had passed between his first emotional encounter with his promised person and the next- a sudden rush of adrenaline and joy, not unlike the feeling of going on a roller coaster- but from that point on the emotional exchanges seemed to happen more often. It wasn't a constant connection, like he had assumed it would be after speaking to his mother about it, but at least once a month he was getting sudden bursts of emotions.

Interestingly enough, the two emotions he felt most often were 'energetic' and 'confident', a welcome change from the particularly painful first emotional connection had been. It put Hanzo's mind at ease; whoever his promised person was, they must have been doing well for themselves if they were so confident all the time. That, or they were dangerously cocky, but Hanzo was hoping for the former.

It did bother him that these emotional bursts generally came in the middle of the night, though. At first Hanzo had assumed that his promised person was a night owl, but eventually he realized that it was more likely that this person lived on another continent. That would make it more difficult to find this person, Hanzo realized. But that was a problem for another day, when he wasn't so busy with his training and his schoolwork. He had to become an adult before he could go traversing across the globe looking for one person.

That attitude quickly changed, however, after one particularly memorable incident. 

Hanzo was 16, in high school, and just finishing up gym for the day. He was physically fit, thanks to years of archery training, so even running the track (as he had that day) didn't bother him. He was sweaty, as the early-June heat was particularly bad that year, but Hanzo didn't let his discomfort show. He simply strode across the track, heading towards the drinking fountains near the entrance to the classroom building. He needed to go and change for his next class, but stopping for a quick drink wouldn't be a problem. Stepping in front of one of the faucets, Hanzo reached over to turn it on, watching the water flow out of the spigot for a moment as he waited for it to cool down.

And then suddenly he collapsed against the basin, barely stopping himself from toppling over entirely. For a moment he thought he was in pain, but he soon realized that wasn't the problem. No, his heart was going a mile a minute and his stomach was turning, nearly making him spill the contents of his lunch all over the ground. Now that he understood what sharing emotions felt like, Hanzo was able to recover more quickly than he had the first time. Gasping for breath, Hanzo steadied himself, trying to force himself back to his feet. If anyone saw him at that moment, they would start asking questions. Questions that he couldn't answer.

But it was hard to think about what others might think, because Hanzo was more worried about his promised person. They were in a blind panic, the kind of panic that only happens after seeing something horrifying. The connection wasn't one that allowed words or thoughts to pass between the two, so all Hanzo could sense was the raw emotion behind whatever was happening. And whatever it was, it frightened him.

Hanzo silently prayed that, whatever had happened, his soulmate should live through it. 'Don't be hurt,' he said silently to himself, 'Please be alright.'

\---

Half-a-world away, Jesse stood in the middle of a bar, hands clenched around the handle of his newly-gifted revolver. Smoke lazily drifted out of the barrel, extending upwards to meet the cloud of cigarette and god-knows-what-else smoke that lingered around the ceiling. Other than the slight shake to his hands, Jesse didn't move at all. He couldn't move. Blind panic and fear held him in place.

On the ground in front of him, a man lay motionless. A single bullet hole to the chest and a gradually-growing pool of blood finished the unspoken story.

One of the other members of Deadlock found Jesse like that, and he cheered for him. "Looks like the new kid finally earned his keep," he said, and the rest of the group in the bar cheered, "C'mon everyone, let's get some liquor in him! The little cowboy finally earned his stars!"

Jesse McCree was barely 15 years old. He had dropped out of high school to join Deadlock, to earn enough money to keep his family off the streets. But, as he was quickly beginning to realize, money didn't fix everything.

He was a murderer now. A true, cold-blooded murderer. And there was no walking away from that.

\---

Hanzo managed to last for nearly two hours before he was finally able to find a place to hide away and deal with all of this. Thankfully, the shock of it all was enough to keep him from outright crying. But as that shock wore off, and a feeling of horror crept in, Hanzo found it harder and harder to keep his composure. Which was why, as soon as his classes were done for the day, Hanzo ran to one of the less-traveled parts of his high school campus and hid in one of the bathrooms. These bathrooms were single-stalls, so he was able to lock the door and keep everyone out.

There, he finally let out a shuddering sigh as the tears started rolling down his face. This feeling was horrible, even worse than that first connection had been. What was his promised person up to, that they were feeling something like this? Shock, horror, _guilt_? Had there been an accident? Was everyone okay?

Hanzo realized that he couldn't let this be, and not just because his promised person's emotions would prevent him from walking home without raising any suspicion. Of course, he could easily explain it away as his promised person being emotional, but Hanzo was too proud for that. He needed to be in control of himself at all times, and showing that someone else could force his emotions was the ultimate sign of weakness. And Hanzo Shimada couldn't be weak.

As his mind spun around, trying to think of what to do to hide his red face, a thought ghosted through his mind. The connection went both ways, right? So maybe, if he concentrated hard enough, he could send an emotion to his promised person on purpose. As long as the emotion was a strong one it would work, right? He had to at least try.

Hanzo closed his eyes and focused, trying to draw up a feeling of comfort. He remembered a time long ago, when Genji hadn't been born yet and he had been frightened by a storm outside. His mother had come to him and held him through the night, singing quiet songs to him as she rocked him back to sleep. He remembered being seven years old with a skinned knee, and watching as one of the maids took the time to bandage him up. He remembered all those nights where both he and Genji had been unable to sleep, so one had snuck into the other's bed, and they had talked until morning just to fill the silence.

Thoughts of comfort, thoughts of care, that is what he focused on. And he focused not just on his memories of it, but of on what he would do for his promised person if they knew each other face-to-face. He would hug them, hold them tight, tell them that everything was going to be okay. Whatever was wrong, he would make it right.

Hanzo focused with all of his might on that feeling of comfort, trying to send it to his promised person. He didn't know if it would work, but he had to try.

\---

Jesse had made it back to his room without raising too much suspicion (though the guys in Deadlock gave him some grief about not wanting to drink). His grandmother had been sleeping, so all he had to do was remove his boots to sneak past her door. Once he was in his room, the door locked securely behind him, Jesse fell into his bed and began to sob quietly.

It was horrible. The sheer guilt of what he had done was enough to make him feel like he was drowning. It didn't matter if he tried to swim upwards, because every direction was wrong and only took him further into that deep pit of guilt. Fighting against it was pointless, but he had to focus on something, or else he might cry too loudly and wake up his grandmother. As terrible as he felt then, having to tell his grandmother about it would be even worse. 

Then, through the haze of shock and guilt, a warm feeling started to enter Jesse's body. It wasn't his own feelings, he could tell that much. It had to be from his soulmate. Had his guilt been so loud that his soulmate had heard it? That must be it, because this warmth wasn't just pleasant feelings his soulmate was experiencing. No, this was more intense, more focused. It was directed at him specifically, he could tell. And the warm feeling, it felt…good. 

It felt like someone was wrapping their arms around him, hugging him closely. It felt like his soulmate would drive away all the pain and make everything better. Most importantly, even though words couldn't be sent over a soulmate connection like this, Jesse could practically feel his soulmate saying "Shhh, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

It didn't fix all of the problems. The guilt still lingered, and Jesse was sure he would feel it again later. But the sharp pain subsided, allowing Jesse to uncurl from the fetal position he had wrapped himself up into. It let Jesse settle down into bed a bit more naturally, and it was enough to lull him into a deep sleep, dreams full of first meetings and shared kisses. 

He didn't have the presence of mind to even try to send a 'thank you' back to his soulmate before drifting off to sleep, but he hoped that they would understand.

\---

It was hard to tell for sure, since Hanzo didn't get any positive emotions in return, but he thought that his feelings had gone through. Before too long, the guilty feelings subsided to the point where Hanzo couldn't feel them over the connection anymore. Sighing in relief, Hanzo dropped his focus on those comforting emotions, figuring his job was done.

Well, his job of being a proverbial shoulder to cry on was done. Now Hanzo had to clean up his face and figure out some kind of explanation for his tardiness in returning home. His parents allowed him a small bit of leeway, to account for traffic, but this was far beyond his 'leeway time'. Which meant extra training, or a lecture from his father about punctuality, or both. But hey, that was a small price to pay for the knowledge that he had helped his promised person, right?

Hanzo's promised person seemed to be good at getting themselves in trouble, bit at least this way he would be able to help when it happened again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you don't mind the quick jumping back-and-forth that happened in this chapter. I'm going to try not to do it too often, but in cases where both sides of a situation need to be seen simultaneously, it will be happening.


	3. Second chance

It was in the spring, shortly after Hanzo had graduated from high school, that his father finally approached him for 'the talk.'

Truthfully he had been expecting it for some time. Nobody had told him about it, but Hanzo wasn't a fool. He could extrapolate answers based on things he saw around him. And what he saw was that, while the majority of the Shimada clan (or those who were adults, at least) knew their promised person, almost none of them had married said person. His father's promised person was a close business partner, his mother's a tutor for the Shimada clan. His grandfather's had been a bodyguard, protecting the family for years and years after grandfather had passed away, until age and injury had claimed her as well. His aunts, uncles, older cousins, they all were partners. Not lovers. 

The message Hanzo took from that was very clear: marriage to a promised person was only permitted in certain situations. If Hanzo's promised person was a man, or if they were not of appropriate social standing, then the best Hanzo could hope for was a close friendship.

But Hanzo had put off thinking about that, deciding not to worry about troubles like that until they became an immediate problem. He had far too many other things to worry about, so he couldn't waste his energy worrying about marriage possibilities with a person he hadn't even met yet. Hanzo wasn't even sure he wanted to marry his promised person in the first place; it was just the thought of that option not even being on the table that bothered him. He liked to keep his options open whenever he could, so that he could go with the best outcome.

Was that too crass of him? Possibly, if Genji was to be believed. Genji was a bit more into the idea of 'true love', and he was always critical of people who bonded with a promised person for business reasons instead of for emotional ones. Hanzo had earned Genji's ire more than once for speaking plainly about what he would do when he met his promised person. Apparently 'polite introductions and a discussion of the future' was not romantic enough for Genji.

But on that day, when his father called him into the gardens at the castle for a walk, Hanzo knew that the talk would be a difficult one. His father never called on him like this unless it was something serious.

Hanzo stepped into the courtyard of the castle, carefully sliding the door shut behind him. Once he reached the edge of the porch he slipped his 'inside' sandals on, and he used the stone path to walk to where his father was waiting for him. As he reached his father, he calmly said, "You wished to speak to me?"

Hanzo's father nodded. As he spoke, he started to walk slowly around the garden, and Hanzo silently fell in step next to him. "Yes, I did. You are nearly a man now, Hanzo, and it is time we discussed something important."

Hanzo's father paused long enough to get a confirmation of understanding from Hanzo, which Hanzo gave in the form of a short nod. Then he spoke again, saying, "You have not met your promised person yet."

It was a statement, not a question, but Hanzo still nodded again to confirm his father's words. His father continued to speak, not giving Hanzo a chance to verbally answer any questions (though Hanzo wouldn't have spoken up anyway, one did not speak up to the head of the Shimada clan unless he asked you a question). "I am sure you have been briefed on the importance of your connection to a promised person, so I will speak plainly. In our family, we traditionally wait until someone's 25th birthday to speak of marriage plans, to give them a chance to meet their promised person first. It is rare, but sometimes a Shimada's promised person makes for a good marriage match. Your cousin is an example of this: his promised person was a daughter from the branch line of a rival clan, and we were able to form a partnership because of their marriage. That would be the most ideal marriage, which is why we wait. 

"But if your promised person is not a good candidate for marriage, or if you do not meet them before your 25th birthday, then you will still be expected to marry. As the eldest son, it is your duty to carry on the Shimada name." Hanzo's father's voice turned dark there, going from impartial words to a sharp warning. "Do not take up Genji's foolish thoughts when it comes to a promised person. Such an idealistic view of the world does not mesh with our clan's businesses. Even entertaining such thoughts will only bring disappointment later. The clan comes first, always. Do you understand?"

That truth did not sit well with Hanzo. While he definitely didn't share Genji's 'true love' thoughts, the way his father was talking to him was frightening. He was supposed to trust his promised person first and foremost, wasn't he? So why was his father speaking as if his promised person was a threat?

But it wasn't Hanzo's place to question his father's wishes. He was the dutiful son, the one who did as he was asked and acted with honor. He was the one who would inherit the Shimada clan's businesses someday, as well as all of the troubles that came along with it. Until that day, he needed to be obedient.

"I understand," he said, bowing his head respectfully to his father, "I am not like Genji, father. The clan comes first. If my promised person can fit with what the clan needs, then they will be accepted here. But the clan comes first."

He was calm on the outside, his face betraying no emotion. But inside, his stomach turned. Even if love was likely not in the future for him, he wanted to at least get along with his promised person. But what could he do? The clan came first, even if it felt wrong to say.

\---

It was the spring of Jesse's 17th year on Earth, and he was spending the beautiful April day in the worst shootout of his life.

Two years of working for Deadlock had given Jesse more than his fair share of exchanged bullets and blood on his hands. After the first few times, the fights all seemed to blur together. At worst, Deadlock lost a couple guys but still ultimately 'won' the day, finishing their smuggling job and spending their hard-earned cash at the bar. By that point, it was all second nature to Jesse, which really helped push away the guilt at killing people that were probably innocent. Getting drunk and not thinking about it also helped.

But this time…Jesse didn't know what had gone wrong, but something about their job had called down the wrath of Overwatch, of all groups. Deadlock had tangoed with many mercenary groups over the years, but Overwatch was one that they generally steered clear of. And for good reason too, they had both the numbers and the firepower to suppress any smuggling operation. 

Jesse ducked behind a billboard on the roof to reload his gun, bullets bouncing off the cliff walls around him. There were tons of bodies strewn about already, mostly of Deadlock origin. This shootout would be coming to an end soon, and Jesse didn't like his odds. He could always run, that thought had crossed his mind already. His loyalty to Deadlock was bought with the fear of retaliation against his grandmother if he left, and that loyalty could be swayed. Maybe this shootout could be his out: he couldn't get gunned down by a disgruntled gang if said gang was dead. 

A bullet went sailing past Jesse's head, clipping off a small bit of his hair, and that put that idea to rest. Even if he was outnumbered, he was going to have to fight and hope for the best. Nobody would stop shooting long enough to see that their opponent was running away, so leaving his back exposed like that was a bad idea.

Soon his gun was loaded, and Jesse would have six more shots to try and make a dent in the number of soldiers out there. Shifting his weight on his feet, Jesse crouched down and pressed his left hand against the billboard behind him, readying himself to turn and fire as soon as he peeked out from his cover. He would only have a second or two before his enemies returned fire, so he would have to act fast if he didn't want to get shot.

But before he could go out from behind his cover, he heard a rather ominous 'click' from his right side, and a deep voice said, "Drop the gun, kid."

For a second Jesse thought about turning his gun on whoever had snuck up on him, but he wasn't _that_ fast. The other guy would have a bullet in his brain before he even pointed the gun at him. So he gave up, and he let the gun drop from his hand.

"And the grenade," the voice said.

Ah. So he had seen that.

With a scowl, Jesse dropped the flashbang in his hand, letting it roll harmlessly across the rooftop.

"Turn around," the voice commanded, and Jesse complied. Though he stayed crouching, only turning just enough to look at the man who had caught him.

This man looked very out-of-place. Instead of the dark blue that the other members of Overwatch wore, this man was in all black. Black beanie, black sweater, black pants, black boots. Even his gun, a single-handed shotgun-like weapon, was black. Black must've been this guy's favorite color, Jesse decided. He had enough sense to not say that out loud, though, and he just held up his hands in an 'I surrender' gesture and waited for the man to talk.

The man did not look pleased at all. But he didn't look angry either, strangely enough. He looked…disappointed, maybe? Like a stern father who was about to scold their misbehaving son. Which almost would have fit the situation, as this man definitely looked old enough to be Jesse's father.

"What are you doing here," the man said, sounding just as frustrated and disappointed as he looked, "You're a kid, you shouldn't be running with a gang."

A flash of rebelliousness burned through Jesse. He hated being called a kid. After everything he had been through- way more than any kid would have experienced- he deserved to at least be thought of as an adult. The guys in Deadlock certainly didn't have any trouble treating him like one, even when he was a scrawny teenager just trying to pay the bills.

Which he still was, technically. But details.

"And you shouldn't be sneakin' up on people," Jesse said coolly, shooting the man a grin, "You might get hurt if you spook the wrong guy."

The man snorted, though Jesse couldn't tell if it was in frustration or in amusement. Either would have been good, he figured, he needed to get this guy to lower his guard so that he could punch him and possibly get away. No matter who he was, if he was going to turn up in the middle of a gunfight between Deadlock and Overwatch then he was someone to worry about.

"And you're going to get shot if you keep running your mouth like that," the man said, "So let's try again: why are you here?"

Well, if he was going to ask so nicely… "Well _friend_ ," he said, putting enough emphasis on that word to make it clear that no, this guy was not his friend at all, though the rest of his words were spoken in a light, nonchalant tone, "This might come as a surprise to ya, but there's not many employment opportunities for 15-year-olds."

For a second there, the man's stony face faltered. Jesse could have sworn that he had seen a flash of pity, which was almost as annoying as being called a kid, but before he could say anything about it that look was gone, replaced by the look that had been there a moment before. 

Then the man's eyes were no longer on Jesse, but on something behind him and to the left. He opened his mouth and started to say, "Ana, wait-"

Jesse didn't hear the bullet, but he felt it pierce his left shoulder. It burned, but not in the way bullets usually burned. It felt smaller, more focused, and actually not like a bullet at all. 'It's a dart,' Jesse realized as his vision went hazy. He started to slump forward, and he tried to focus, to keep his mind awake, but he was out cold before he hit the ground.

\---

It was rare for Hanzo to take a trip outside of the castle anymore. He was at that awkward point in his life where he was done with school, but he hadn't yet reached the point where he was old enough to go with his father on business trips. He did sit in on meetings held at home, but his father didn't want to risk taking him out yet, not until he got his own personal bodyguards. Hanzo was free to leave for his own reasons, of course, but he rarely had a reason to. His friends from school had been just that: school friends. Friends you talk to because you see them everyday. And now that their lives were moving on, they had no reason to talk anymore.

But as rare as it was for Hanzo to be out of the castle, it was even rarer for him to be at that arcade that Genji liked. It was even rarer than that when Hanzo would willingly go to the arcade with a pounding headache, one that was only further aggravated by the lights and loud sounds.

However, it was Genji's birthday, and that warranted some special treatment.

Genji, now 16 and as lively as ever, was all too happy to drag his suffering brother around the arcade, showing off the new games and trying to goad Hanzo into playing something with him. Hanzo didn't particularly enjoy video games, especially not when it was hard to focus on them, but he wanted to at least make the effort. These carefree days would be over for him soon, so he wanted to give Genji as many good memories as he could before he had to become 'all business'. As proud and formal as Hanzo was, he still liked to think of himself as a good older brother. He and Genji had their differences- many, many differences- but they were still brothers, and family was important. 

Somehow they had ended up in front of some kind of fighting game, and Genji was already pulling several tokens out of his pocket. "Let's play this one," he said eagerly, "It's very simple to learn, so you shouldn't have any trouble."

Hanzo glanced down at the controls in front of him. "Genji, there are six different buttons labeled 'attack'."

"They all attack," Genji said as he fed the tokens into the machine, "The red one, that is a high punch, the blue one is a low punch. The two yellow ones are kicks, but the upper one is a high kick and the lower one is a low-"

"But why have so many? Why not have just two, one for punching and one for kicking?" Hanzo just couldn't make sense of this, it all seemed needlessly complicated.

"Because that wouldn't leave you any buttons for the special attacks." Genji stood up, and he pressed start for both of them. Then he started to scroll through the characters, presumably looking for a specific one. "There is an archer in this game, if you want to play as him." Genji, however, had selected some ninja character. Hanzo had expected that.

But Hanzo also scoffed at Genji's suggestion. "Just because I am an archer does not mean that I need to play one in a video game."

Hanzo absolutely selected the archer to play as.

The match was a short one. Hanzo was bad at games in general, but the headache he was experiencing made it even harder to focus. All he could do was grit his teeth in frustration as Genji claimed victory within three rounds. Which just added to his headache, because even if he was bad at games and didn't like playing them, he hated losing even more.

His distraction did not go unnoticed, however. Normally Genji celebrated his victories in the most obnoxious way possible, but this time he only gave Hanzo a concerned look. "You seem troubled. More troubled than usual. Is something wrong? Is it your promised person?"

It probably was Hanzo's promised person, they had a bad habit of getting into trouble all the time. But that didn't help with Hanzo's mood at all, and he snapped at Genji. "Why do you always jump to that conclusion?"

"Because your promised person is troubling," Genji said, and Hanzo could tell that he was speaking honestly rather than in a teasing manner. Silence fell between the two for a moment before Genji spoke up again. "If you would like to go home-"

"No," Hanzo said quickly, interrupting Genji, "It is just a headache, it will pass."

Genji eyed Hanzo carefully, clearly not believing Hanzo's words. But ultimately he said, "Alright, if you are sure."

They stayed for another hour and played a few more games, but Hanzo could tell that the mood was ruined. That bothered him even more than the headache did. In his frustration, Hanzo sent a quick burst of annoyance over the connection to his promised person, a punishment of sorts for ruining Genji's birthday. Whoever his promised person was, they needed to be less selfish about the whole 'emotional connection' thing.

\---

That burst of annoyance hit Jesse at the worst possible time: while he was chained to a chair in a windowless room, being interrogated by the same man who had caught him on the roof of that diner. It made Jesse flinch and then scowl, and he sent his own burst of annoyance back at his soulmate. It wasn't his fault that he had a pounding headache that was undoubtedly being leaked over the soulmate connection, being interrogated tended to do that to a person. 

"You got a problem, kid," the man in black asked roughly, looking up from the folder in his hands.

Ever the sarcastic one, Jesse had to make a smart-mouth response. "Just a couple: one, this place sucks, and two, this room is almost as ugly as you."

"You're lucky I'm not close enough to smack you for that one," the man said, and he looked back down at the folder. "Jesse McCree. You haven't been telling me the truth."

"What tipped you off, that my dad was a scorpion wrangler, or that I fought a bull when I was five?" That response was enough to get the man in black to walk around the table and smack Jesse on top of his head with the folder, which in turn got an 'ow!' from Jesse. The folder itself hadn't hurt him, but being hit while he had a pounding headache did.

"I said watch your mouth," the man said, and he opened the file again and continued to read from it. "You're 17, not 15, though it still makes you a little punk. You've been truant for the last two years, committing crime after crime in the name of Deadlock, and there's more than enough dead bodies at your feet to put you in prison for the rest of your life."

The man snapped the folder shut, and then he used it to point directly at Jesse. "So I'll give you one chance: tell me why I shouldn't throw you in a cell and leave you to rot?"

Having it spelled out for him like that made Jesse sweat a little. He had always known that jail was a possibility, but to be put away for the rest of his life? He wasn't even an adult yet, and already he had messed up so badly that he might never spend a single day of his adulthood free. What would his parents think, if they were still alive to see this? What would his grandmother think?

"Well I reckon I don't like that idea much," Jesse said, "What would my gran do without me? She's just a poor old lady, she'd cry if she had to visit her grandson in prison."

"If she got to visit you at all," the man said firmly, "She's in hospice now, isn't she? Would she even live long enough to see your trial all the way through?"

A hot streak of anger, one even stronger than any he had felt before, ran through Jesse. How dare this man talk about his family like he had any idea what was going on? How dare he? "Don't talk ill of my gran," Jesse said harshly, all sense of playfulness gone from his voice, "She doesn't deserve any bullshit from you!"

"Well if she really deserves better, then maybe you shouldn't have run around with a gang of smugglers," the man said, glaring down at Jesse, "It was going to be a cell or a body bag eventually, kid. You should be glad that I got to you first."

"Why," Jesse snapped, "Because you wanted to talk shit about me before I got locked away? That's real sweet of you, go fuck yourself."

"How about you watch that damn mouth of yours and listen to me for once?" The man sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose. A frustrated gesture, or so Jesse thought. "Look: I didn't drag you here to make fun of you. I dragged you here to make you an offer."

"I bet it's an offer I can't refuse," Jesse muttered under his breath.

The man hit Jesse in the head with the folder again, drawing another 'ow!' from Jesse. Then the man said, "Who do you think I am?"

"Some psycho who likes hitting people with folders?"

"Wrong answer," the man said, and then he smacked Jesse again. "I'm from Blackwatch. Ever heard of it?"

"Nope, can't say that I have," Jesse said, and then after a half-second he decided to keep running his mouth. If he was going to get hit again, then so be it. "Let me guess: you're the darker, edgier version of Overwatch?"

Interestingly enough, the man didn't raise the folder again. Instead he actually agreed with Jesse, saying, "That's actually not too far off from the truth. Blackwatch runs secret ops, dealing in stuff that regular Overwatch members can't get involved in. And Blackwatch is always looking for more men."

Jesse, surprisingly, couldn't think of some witty response to that. Mostly because he could already read into the implications of what this man was saying. "What, is this a job interview or something?"

"More like a job offer," the man said, and he nodded to Jesse. "Gabriel Reyes, commander of Blackwatch. This is the deal: you work for me, and your past is pardoned. Your record gets sealed, and you walk as a free man once your service to Blackwatch is done."

"So what you're saying is that you want me to give up one gang in favor of another," Jesse asked.

"Think of it more as 'community service'," Gabriel said, "Instead of serving your time in a jail cell, you serve it helping the people. You get to walk free, and America's tax dollars don't go towards feeding and housing you. And who knows, maybe you can make up for all the lives you've ruined in the last couple of years." He held out a hand to Jesse, "So what do you say? Deal?"

Yes, that was an incredibly tough call to make. Spend the rest of his life locked up, never seeing his gran again and probably never meeting his soulmate either, or work for a secret organization that was using underhanded tactics to maintain world peace. That was such a difficult decision to make that Jesse actually had to think about it for a few seconds.

"Before I answer, I gotta know: Why me?"

The answer Gabriel gave was surprisingly honest. "Because you're a kid who got stuck in a position that you didn't ask for and that you definitely didn't deserve. You're not a bad person, Jesse McCree, you've just made some bad choices in your life. Bad choices that had to be made, because the alternative was much worse. I know you can do great things, if you're given the chance. So this is your chance to do great things and show me that you're more than a scrawny kid born to poverty and trapped in a cycle of criminal acts."

Well then. That certainly was a level of honesty and kindness that Jesse didn't expect. He had expected to be thrown to the dogs, not pitied and given a second chance. But hey, if they want to try for his sake, then he could try for his sake too.

"Okay boss," he said after the customary three-second delay of 'I'm going to act like this is a difficult decision', "When do I start?"

That simple answer brought a grin to Gabriel's face. "Immediately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite as much soulmate-connection in this chapter, but we got some new characters and conflicts going! So there's that at least.
> 
> Also the tags have been updated to reflect the new content.


	4. Lost in thought [NSFW]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Time to earn that 'M' rating.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains sexual material in it and is Not Safe For Work.

Three years of training and traveling the world had taken Jesse on many adventures, but somehow he always felt best when he was back at the Watchpoint. It didn't matter which Watchpoint, interestingly enough, so long as he was stationed there and had his own room there. There was something reassuring about it, about being able to come back after a long day's work (or week's work, for the longer missions), kick up his feet, and 'I'm home'.

Of course, being in Blackwatch meant that those moments of 'I'm home' were not quite as frequent as with the regular Overwatch members, but Jesse could handle that. 'Home' wasn't just a location, after all: Jesse could see Gabriel, or any of the other Blackwatch members really, or even some of the more frequent Overwatch visitors like Jack or Ana or Reinhardt and feel like he was at home. It was as much about the people as it was about the place, after all, and since his blood family was gone from this world now…

Jesse tried not to think about that too much. People died all the time, there was no point in getting sad about it. Besides, he had a perfectly good family here, even if it was a patchwork 'found family'. These people, they were good to him, good in a way Deadlock had never been. It hadn't taken long for everyone to win him over, and he would gladly die for any of them. Not that he wanted to die, of course. He would much rather live for their sake, but if it came down to it he would gladly take a bullet for any of them.

He had a hunch that the feeling was mutual, too. He was a bit slow on the uptake at times, but Jesse McCree was not stupid. He knew that Gabriel would offer him a hand up after busting his chops for breaking some rule, a kindness that Gabriel didn't extend to most people. He knew that Ana, tough as nails, still found time to gently chide him when his form was off. He knew that Jack had a million other worries to focus on, but he still took time out from his day to at least check on Jesse and make sure he was doing alright. Everyone had their own problems to take care of, but they still made time for him. That right there, that was true, familial love.

It spurred Jesse forward, egging him on in a way. He was like a favored child who wanted to do anything he could to impress his parents. He jumped at the chance to make shitty puns, just to get a chuckle or a disgusted groan from everyone. Rare was the time when he wasn't the first in line to use the training room, or to jump right in and start a mission. 'Eager' was a word that many people used to describe him; 'reckless' was another. More than once he had ended up on a medical bed, getting tended to by that cute new doctor because he had tunnel-visioned in on the objective and had missed an outside threat. "You need to be more cautious," that blonde beauty always said in stilted, accented English, "One of these days you are going to end up with an injury that I cannot fix."

"It's fine," Jesse always said in return, giving Angela a cheeky grin and a wink, "I trust ya to patch me up."

And really, he did. He trusted everyone there to have his back, and he had theirs in return. That's what family did for one-another: they looked out for each other and kept each other safe. This was Jesse's family, and he intended on keeping them as safe as he could.

As Jesse sat in the rec room, munching on popcorn while several other members played a game of pool (Blackwatch vs Overwatch, to see which team had the best pool sharks), he felt a familiar warmth in his chest. That warmth of family, of home, of finally finding his place in the world. Even if he didn't join in that day- an oddity for him, because he was usually the first to jump in and show off his skills- he was content to watch the others have fun.

This was the life. 

He hoped that these days never came to an end.

\---

The meetings were long and strenuous, so much so that even the older members of the Shimada clan found themselves asking for a break by midday. Those breaks were rarely enough to recover from the fatigue, though; within a quarter-hour they would all be back to the tables, continuing the discussion from before. It was a discussion that would last long into the night, and then pick up again early the next day. By Hanzo's estimate, this would continue for at least a week, if not longer. And being one of the youngest members present at the meeting- only Genji was younger, and he didn't show up every day- he had to show the most stamina and mental fortitude. He was still a provisional member of these discussions, but the day was coming when he would finally be invited to participate and give his own opinions. 

The length of the discussions was not what bothered him, interestingly enough. No, what bothered him was the content of said discussions, which meant that he was going to have a lot of trouble actually participating when he was finally called to do so.

Hanzo had always suspected that his father's dealings were less-than-honest. Even in grade school he had known something was different: the name 'Shimada' had always invoked caution in his classmates, rather than admiration or respect. And now, as he grew older and saw exactly the kind of talks his father was participating in, he understood why his classmates had been cautious. The Shimada clan dealt in things that were significantly less-than-legal, and frequently resulted in the deaths of other parties. Occasionally he wondered if the Shimada clan was actually a yakuza clan, though he never heard that word used and he lacked the bravery to outright ask his father if that was the case. He also decided not to voice that concern to Genji, as his youth often gave him a reckless mouth and Hanzo didn't want to see him punished for asking the wrong questions.

Soon one of the elders gave the signal for a break, and Hanzo stood along with everyone else, glad to have a moment to stretch his legs. He walked away from the group, choosing the quiet of one of the many courtyards to the idle chatter of the other adults. Leaning against one of the support beams, Hanzo sighed contently and rubbed at his chest a little. It was warm again, as it had been on a regular basis for some years now. Warm in the way thinking 'I'm home' felt. Whatever his promised person was up to, they were clearly having a good time of it. That thought brought a smile to Hanzo's lips.

"Good," he said quietly to himself, "You deserve it."

"Who deserves it," called out a curious voice from behind Hanzo.

That smile quickly dropped from Hanzo's face, and was replaced by his usual, stoic look. He glanced over to Genji as the younger Shimada stepped up to the porch, mimicking Hanzo's stance as he leaned against the support beam next to him. Unlike Hanzo, Genji was grinning ear-to-ear. He clearly already knew what Hanzo meant, that cheeky little shit. So Hanzo just scowled at him and said nothing.

Genji wouldn't take that for an answer, though. "Come on," he said, sounding perhaps a bit too eager, "Tell me about it. What are they up to, hmm?"

"Why do you always ask that," Hanzo said irritably, "I cannot tell what they are 'up to' based on a few fleeting emotions. And it hardly matters, since I have not met them."

"Of course it matters! They're your promised person, the one person you can trust above everyone else. Doesn't that interest you even a little bit?" Genji was prodding again, but this time he sounded almost offended at Hanzo's lack of interest in his promised person. A lack of interest that was wholly faked, by the way. Hanzo absolutely wanted to know what his promised person was up to, he just didn't want anyone else to know that he wanted to know. Feelings were a very private topic to him.

So Hanzo pressed forwards with his forced indifference, saying, "When I meet them, I may become interested. But right now, I have other matters that are more important, and I-"

Hanzo had been looking out to the courtyard as he spoke, finding it easier to talk as he watched the tree branches sway in the gentle summer breeze. But at the end of his sentence he had looked to Genji, and his words died in his throat as he saw the look Genji was giving him. No longer was Genji leaning against the support beam; he was standing up straight, fists clenched at his sides. Rare was the day when Genji showed genuine displeasure at something, and this was far beyond that. This was actual, real anger. Maybe something more, even.

For a moment an uncomfortable silence fell between the two brothers, and Hanzo was at a loss. He had never seen his brother like this before. It didn't just bother him, it downright frightened him. "Genji?"

Genji's words were as harsh and unforgiving as his look was. "Your promised person is very unlucky then, to be forever attached to someone so callous and uncaring. You would throw away such an important connection like that as if it were nothing? How dare you squander it, when so many others only dream of such a blessing!"

Such an unexpected outburst left Hanzo speechless. Not only was it unusual for Genji to even get like that, but his words made no sense either. What was he even talking about? "Genji, I-"

"I'm going out," Genji said abruptly, and he ran across the courtyard, scaling the far wall and dropping down over the other side. 

Hanzo started after Genji, taking a good four or five steps into the courtyard before he heard the bell signaling the end of the break period. Stopping in his tracks, Hanzo looked back to the open doorway. The older men were beginning to file back into the room to begin discussions for the afternoon, and they would likely be at it for several hours. Hanzo was supposed to be there too, listening, preparing himself for further discussions.

But Genji…

Hanzo looked to the far wall again. He should go after his brother, he said silently to himself. He was the older brother, the more mature one, the one who was supposed to keep his little brother safe. He should go after him and check on him, and find out why he was so upset. Hanzo's words definitely had something to do with it, but he was sure there was more to it than that. Something was genuinely bothering Genji, and Hanzo needed to find out what it was.

He stood there for a long moment, stuck between equally-important duties. The noise of past memories was rushing in his ears, filling his mind with proverbs of family and responsibility.

_'You are an older brother now, Hanzo. That means you are the protector.'_

_'The clan always comes first.'_

Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut, silently willing for an answer to fall into his lap and solve this conflict for him. But nothing came, and when he opened his eyes once more all he saw were the swaying tree branches and the imposing walls of the castle. 

Cursing to himself, he finally turned and strode back into the castle. As he returned to his seat, he fought back the whispering doubts in his mind, telling him that he made the wrong choice, that he needed to leave now and go be with his brother. 

'He is an adult,' Hanzo said to himself, 'He will be fine for a few hours. I can check on him later.'

The clan came first, after all. 

But as much as he repeated that to himself, and as much as he tried to hold onto that warm feeling radiating from his promised person's happiness, nothing could settle that dark pit in his stomach.

\---

Jesse rolled over in his bed, glancing blearily at the glowing digital display of the clock on his nightstand. 6:42 am. Early enough that he didn't need to be up yet, but close enough to his usual wakeup time of 7 am that it was pointless to try to go back to sleep. Groaning, Jesse rolled over again, this time facing the wall that his bed was pushed up against. He didn't want to sleep, but he didn't want to get up yet either. What a shitty way to spend the morning. 

Though it didn't have to be shitty, he realized.

Jesse was a hot-blooded young man, and he had certain needs. Needs that were much easier to fulfill at a Watchpoint, since everyone got their own individual rooms there. Jesse wasn't shy about most things, but even he found it impossible to 'take care of himself' in the bunk rooms of the safehouses that they had to stay at sometimes. He liked a little privacy, that's all. And here, in his own personal room at the Watchpoint, he could get that privacy as long as he kept quiet about it.

He couldn't remember if he had locked his door last night, so he kept his back to it, facing the wall as he snaked a hand down to palm himself through his boxers. Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts drift to that one particularly busty girl from last year's Christmas party, the one who had invited Jesse back to her room (an invite that he had turned down, regrettably). She was a frequent visitor of Jesse's fantasies, though he quickly found that today she just wasn't doing it for him. Frustrated, he ground his knees together to try and give himself a little more pressure down there as he switched gears in his mind.

His mind flicked through a few common fantasies of his, and even a couple uncommon ones. The twins from down in the tech ward, that cute girl who worked in the lunchroom, the guy at the corner store with the bright smile who always knew Jesse's preferred brand of smokes. Hell, his mind even jumped to a particularly weird fantasy about being naked and pinned between Gabriel and Jack as they had their way with him, but that one brought about more confusion than arousal. He paused for a moment, trying to force that horrible thought out of his head before it ruined him for the rest of the day.

What about his soulmate, he wondered. He had no idea what they looked like- or even what gender they were, for that matter- and yet the thought intrigued him. What did they look like, what did they feel like? What kind of touches would make their body light up like a firework on the 4th of July?

In his mind, Jesse pictured a young woman, someone close to his age. She would be the one to sit proudly in front of him, he decided. That's what he always felt over their connection: pride. She would keep her chin up and her mouth closed, never betraying her emotions to anyone. Anyone but him, that is. Even as she sat there, doing some important…whatever, maybe a meeting, Jesse would be able to feel it. _'I want you, right here, right now.'_ A secret desire that only he knew.

That was the right way to go, it seemed, as Jesse could finally feel himself coming to full attention. He withdrew his hand long enough to spit into it, and then he slipped back down, this time letting his hand slip into his boxers. Sighing contently, he continued the fantasy, thinking of his soulmate and what she would do next.

They would slip off to a secret room, somewhere nobody would be able to find them. Her public face might belong to everyone, but in those private moments she was his and his alone. He would pin her to a wall, strip her, and make her plead in a way that her pride never would have let her do before. Under his careful hands, she would come completely and utterly undone.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely, pressing his face into the pillow to muffle the sounds that escaped from him as his hand sped up. This was the hottest goddamn thing he had ever imagined. Why had it taken him so long to even think of this?

\---

Hanzo was just finishing with getting prepared for the night's rest when the first of those unexpected emotions hit him.

It wasn't that he was chaste, of course. Hanzo was no virgin, he had spent a few scattered nights with different women he had found attractive. They had been awkward, of course, since Hanzo definitely didn't want any of those feelings to pass through the connection with his promised person and had fought hard to keep his emotions in check. Plus he wasn't in a position to get emotionally attached to any of those women, and that left him with only one-night stands that were wholly unfulfilling once the deed had been done. But given that he had gotten no emotional push from his promised person after the fact, Hanzo had figured that sexual urges just didn't pass through the connection like other, stronger emotions did.

Which was all proved immensely wrong, of course, when those pulses of arousal hit him hard in his gut. 

Gasping, Hanzo reached out to the nearby wall to catch himself. Even though he wasn't being touched, he could practically feel himself tremble in pleasure. His promised person's pleasure, he realized, and he wasn't sure if he was horrified or turned on by that thought. It was hard to separate his personal feelings of arousal (which were definitely growing, he noted with a touch of disdain) and the feelings of arousal that were coming across the connection. 

"Young Master, are you alright," came a concerned voice from the other side of his door.

"I'm fine," Hanzo managed to choke out, using all of his focus to keep his voice even and steady. He didn't want anyone to stumble in and find out what an embarrassing state he was in at that moment. That would absolutely ruin him.

Thankfully, the woman on the other side of the door said, "Alright then, have a good night," and walked down the hall, away from Hanzo's room. Hanzo let out a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the wall for support. Standing up on his own was hard at the moment. Other things were pretty hard right then too, he noted sourly as he frowned down at himself.

But he had to admit, he was curious too. Sex was not a foreign concept to him, nor was touching himself. But he had never done either while feeling anything over his shared connection, and now he was left wondering if it changed things. It would be so easy, he thought to himself. He could keep quiet, nobody would know. He had never been caught before, so there was no reason to think he would get caught now. And with that connection running emotionally charged at the moment, there was no way in hell Hanzo would be getting sleep anytime soon. He needed to take care of this 'problem' first.

He stayed there like that, leaning against the wall. One hand quietly slipped into the folds of his sleeping kimono, grasping himself firmly. A moment later, his other hand quickly clamped down over his mouth, preventing a rather embarrassingly loud moan from making too much noise. He shivered and sighed as he stroked, eventually leaning his head back against the cool wall behind himself. His knees felt weak, and he thought that he might tumble over if not for the wall behind himself.

He didn't even need any raunchy thoughts as he stroked himself hard and fast; the feelings coming over the connection were more than enough. It felt dirty, to get off to the feelings of his promised person getting off. It was a huge breach of privacy, one that he would likely apologize endlessly for once he finally did meet his promised person. But for now he lost himself to the feelings of shame and pleasure, coming quickly as he bit down on his knuckle to keep quiet.

It was only when he was done that he finally sunk down to sitting, his mind hazy with lust. As shameful as the act had been, it had also been the most intense sexual experience he had ever experienced. 

It had to be the connection, he decided later as he cleaned himself up and crawled into bed. Even with that cute girl from college- the one time he had actually almost thought about maybe having a feeling for- it had not been that intense. The connection, it changed everything.

**Everything.**

\---

Jesse wasn't sure when he had rolled onto his back, but he sure was staring at the ceiling in wonder as he let the last waves of his orgasm roll through him. For once, Jesse was speechless. He had done this so many times before, but never had it felt as good as that. Hell, he could have sworn that he had felt something come through the connection there, a matching feeling of pleasure and need. "Well that's new," he muttered to himself in wonder, pulling his hand free of his boxers.

The alarm clock next to him was blaring, as it had been doing for some time now. Jesse finally had the focus to reach over and smack at it, hitting the 'off' button on the third try. 

Jesse had never thought about the possibility of sex-related things going over the connection before. He knew it was possible, once soulmates had met and fully established their connection to one-another. He had heard members of Blackwatch complaining about how their soulmate got laid more often than they did. But Jesse had not fully established his connection to his soulmate yet, and he hadn't felt anything like this over the connection before, despite playing pocket pool on a semi-regular basis for a couple years now. 

Was it the fantasy that had changed things? Did thinking about your soulmate, even as a made-up fantasy like that, make it so they could feel what you were thinking? 

That was really, _really_ kinky, Jesse decided. 

He filed that fact away for later, to use only on special occasions.


	5. Some things can't be fixed

Soulmates were a complicated topic, as far as Overwatch went. See, one of the benefits to working for a worldwide organization was that you quite literally got to travel the world, and that meant a much better chance of meeting your soulmate. As such, the general populous of Overwatch had a higher-than-usual rate of paired-up soulmates. It wasn't significantly higher, maybe 3 or 4 percentage points at most, but it still felt like more than Jesse had ever seen in his life.

In his time at Overwatch, he had gotten reasonably close with a specific small group of people. Usually he ran Blackwatch ops, but Blackwatch still used the same bases that Overwatch did, and as long as they kept their mouths shut about what actually went on during Blackwatch missions then they were allowed to mingle with the 'regular crew'. Jesse had learned that lesson pretty quickly, after watching another member of Blackwatch getting confined to Blackwatch-only areas for six months after saying the wrong thing over dinner. He didn't need to make that mistake for himself, seeing the fallout was enough for him.

Among the group of people that Jesse would dare to call 'friends', almost everyone had at least met their soulmate. Only some had actually talked about it, but he had been able to glean the truth off of interactions with each and every one of them. He was honestly surprised to see such a varied collection of soulmates, as he had always assumed that 'love' was a key component of the bond.

Which it was, for some people. Torbjörn was one of them, having wooed and married his soulmate pretty much as soon as he had met her. She was back home in Sweden, taking care of their children ("Number 3 is on the way" He would say sometimes, beaming with pride while everyone else gagged or made faces at him) and holding down the home front while he was out saving the world. Still, despite their constant separation they managed to stay in love and fully committed to each other, something Jesse hoped would happen with his soulmate too when they met. 

Reinhardt was another one who loved his soulmate, though his love was a bit more platonic. His soulmate, Brigitte, also worked for Overwatch. She was the one who maintained Reinhardt's armor, actually. But she was still baby-faced, and if Jesse had to guess he would say that she was about his age, if not younger. Given the huge age gap between them, Jesse figured that their soulmate bond was more like a father and daughter, rather than husband and wife. He never asked either of them about it, despite his curiosity; as open as they were about their connection and how well they worked together, Jesse always figured the question would be met with a punch to the face from Reinhardt. And as tough as Jesse was, he didn't want his handsome face to get messed up.

Angela was a curious case. Unlike everyone else, she never openly talked about her own soulmate connection, good or bad. But being one of the doctors on the base, she was one of the people that Jesse could actually ask about soulmate connections (they were considered a medical issue, after all), and that was how Jesse was able to get a bit of information from her. He had disguised his questions as being curious about his own soulmate, but she had quickly seen through that. "I will tell you exactly two things," she said curtly one day, cutting through Jesse's bullshit, "One: yes, I do know who my soulmate is. Two: no, they do not work for Overwatch." Given that she left off her usual 'any questions' quip, Jesse figured that she didn't have a good relationship with her soulmate, and he decided to leave it at that.

The Strike Commander, Jack Morrison, he was someone Jesse didn't know quite as well as the rest. They were on friendly-ish terms, to be sure, but a rough start plus the mountains and mountains of paperwork and other duties Jack had to attend to meant that they didn't get much of a chance to build a friendship. And honestly, Jesse was fine with that. He got the feeling that Jack was someone he would like more on a 'causal friends' basis anyway. So he had never really wondered much about Jack's soulmate, at least not until he started to notice things about the strike commander. Like how he frowned every time someone talked about their soulmate, or that weird look he gave Gabriel and Ana anytime they finished each other's sentences. Something about those little glanced made Jesse think that it was better if he didn't find out about Jack's soulmate.

And then there was the power couple, Gabriel and Ana. 

Jesse was sure they weren't actually dating- something about the looks Jack and Gabriel shared when they thought they were alone told Jesse all he needed to know about _that_ \- but their bond was clearly a strong one. Jesse had always been told that soulmates only shared emotions, and that actual communication through the bond was impossible. Even Angela had told him as much, when he had asked about it. But those two, they could just look at each other, and it was like they knew exactly what the other was thinking. Hell, Jesse was sure they didn't even need looks. Sometimes Jesse would say or do something to piss Gabriel off, and Ana would be the one to scold him for it later. Or Ana would catch him being reckless on the battlefield, and before she could say anything over the comm Gabriel was yelling in his ear to stop messing around and get back to work. So either they were so emotionally in-tune with each other that they understood the little nuances of each other's emotions, or they could actually talk to each other through the bond. And given how complex the mind was, there probably wasn't a difference between those two ideas.

And then there was little Fareeha, though at 21 now she wasn't quite so little anymore. She needed to stop growing up so much, Jesse decided. Before long, she would blow right by him in both skill and ambition. "Don't worry," she told Jesse once, patting him on the shoulder, "You're not a loser. I haven't met my soulmate yet either."

"Thanks kid," Jesse had said sourly, leaving the conversation at that. 

It wasn't that he felt like a loser, really. He was still young, he had lots of time to find his soulmate. And given how far and wide he was traveling, it was only a matter of time before he did so. But when he heard Torbjörn gush about his family for the hundredth time that week, or when he saw the way Ana and Gabriel fought like two halves of a whole instead of as two separate people, or even when he saw Reinhardt and Brigitte work together to cook a meal for everyone, he couldn't help but feel a little envious. For better or for worse (though mostly for better, he had thankfully found), pretty much all of his friends had found their soulmates.

When would Jesse finally get to meet his?

\---

Something was very, very wrong with Genji. 

It had been a gradual buildup, one that Hanzo had missed over the years. He didn't even know when it had started, just the moment when he had realized that something was wrong. That moment years ago, when Genji had yelled at him in the courtyard, that was the start of Hanzo's realization. From then on, he paid more attention to Genji, watching his movements more carefully, trying to figure out what troubled his brother so. And the more he watched, the more worried he became.

Genji put on a show and dance for everyone, and they ate it right up. He was the goofy brother, the one who was too friendly and who shirked his duties to go play video games or flirt with girls. Don't put your faith in him, he practically screamed from that smile of his, he wasn't the responsible brother. He was the disappointment that never stuck around, so it was best to leave him be. That façade was accepted by everyone, including their mother and father.

It was not accepted by Hanzo.

He knew something terrible was hiding beneath that smile. He could see it in Genji's eyes: the hurt, the sheer pain that no smile could possibly cover up. His eyes told the whole story, and every time Hanzo saw it he felt his stomach turn. Something was hurting his brother, and he didn't know what.

What's worse, Genji seemed particularly resistant to Hanzo's attempts to find out more. Offers to go to the arcade were quickly turned down with a laugh that anyone else might mistake for friendly as he said, "I wouldn't want to take you away from your work, Aniki." Requests for a meeting were met with similar refusals: he was too busy, or he was too tired, or he didn't want to waste Hanzo's time. Genji was avoiding Hanzo, and it was as plain as day.

Was he mad at Hanzo specifically? That thought had crossed Hanzo's mind several times. It made the most sense, why else would Genji turn down any attempt to spend time together? They had been close as children, but now they were drifting apart, and Hanzo's desperate attempts to reach out, to find that connection again, they were being met with sheer apathy.

He should have gone after him that one time, that summer where they had argued under the shade of the large cherry tree. He should have gone after him and made sure he was alright.

But he couldn't give up. Genji was his brother, his little brother, the one he was supposed to protect. How could Hanzo protect someone when they were barely on speaking terms anymore? 

He had to try. He had to put Genji first for once.

Maybe that was why he left the Shimada home that afternoon, even though another marriage candidate was coming by for a visit. Maybe that was why he ignored his father's warning about being present and punctual, because this particular woman was the daughter of a very powerful politician. Maybe that's why he definitely ignored the bodyguards when they questioned him about if he would be back on time, and how this was important to his father, and how it was rare for him to be feeling well enough to attend these introductions anymore.

He couldn't worry about marriage or the clan or a surly politician. He had to worry about his brother.

Hanamura wasn't too large of a city, but it still took Hanzo some time to find where Genji had gone. He wasn't at the arcade, nor was he at the tea house he liked to frequent. Even the bar turned up no trace of his little brother, and that had been one of Hanzo's last-ditch locations, a guess at a place Genji might turn up. But he had nothing to show for all of his searching, and he was ready to give up for the day and try to catch Genji when he got home later. Genji would likely be drunk and in no place to talk, but it was worth a shot.

Just as he turned to walk home, though, he heard a familiar voice singing loudly from the next street over. Hanzo turned down the nearby alley, cutting through the block to get closer to that voice. He stepped out onto the next block, turned, and started looking around. The sound was stronger here, but he still couldn't see Genji.

Hanzo held a hand up to cup at his mouth, ready to call out for Genji, but at the last moment he thought better of it. Genji might run if he heard Hanzo's voice. So he lowered his hand and used his ears, trying to get closer based on sound alone.

Eventually Hanzo found a little park area on a bluff, overlooking the sea below. It was getting to be sunset, and everything was cast in a beautiful golden glow, showing off the true beauty of the red-brown leaves on the row of trees that provided the bluff with some early-fall shade. Genji himself was sitting at the base of one of these trees, squinting against the light of the sunset but seemingly unfazed by it. Hanzo slowed his pace to a walk, and he approached his brother, stopping a few feet away and standing there with his arms crossed.

"Genji," he said, trying to sound concerned but coming across more sternly than he meant to, "You are drunk."

"Ah, hello Aniki." It was as if Genji was just realizing that Hanzo was there. He patted the ground next to him, grinning up at his brother as he said, "C'mon, sit for a minute."

Hanzo was about to argue, but he had to stop and remind himself: this was for Genji, not himself. So he uncrossed his arms and sat down next to Genji, choosing to sit on his knees instead of cross-legged like Genji was. It put him at a bit taller than Genji, though truthfully he had a few centimeters on the younger Shimada anyway.

Once Hanzo was seated, and watching Genji carefully, Genji swept his arm out to indicate to the sight before them: the sun setting over the clear waters, casting long, orange reflections on its surface. Hanzo might have been able to appreciate its beauty, if not for the fact that his stomach was twisted up into tight knots. "Look at it," Genji said, his face smiling but his voice carrying that same sadness that often reflected in his eyes, "How long has it been since we saw something like this?"

"Too long," Hanzo admitted.

"I remember that beach. We used to play there as kids." Genji sighed nostalgically. "Remember how the maids would take us down to the water?"

Oh, he definitely remembered that. Hanzo adjusted his gaze a bit, looking down to the beach proper, where he could see a few scattered people (and one dog, being walked by its owner) moving up and down the shoreline. It was too cold to go swimming unfortunately, but in his mind he could already picture those hot summer days that were spent in those waters. It brought a fond smile to Hanzo's face. "You were afraid of it. You thought the sharks would get you."

"Ha! But they never did, did they?"

Hanzo chuckled in response, moved by both the memory and Genji's own laughter. "No, you were too fast for them."

"Or so the maids would say." Genji left it at that for the moment, and silence fell between the two brothers once more.

For a while they just sat there, watching the sun slowly sink below the curve of the sea. It really was fall, Hanzo realized; soon it would be too cold to sit out and watch the sunset like this. They would have to wait until next summer to enjoy this sight again.

If they were still on speaking terms, that is. Big changes were going to happen in the next year, and with their relationship already on rocky ground there was no telling what would happen between them.

Genji seemed aware of the uncomfortable silence that Hanzo had fallen into, because his next words spoke of exactly what was weighing on Hanzo's mind. "Father is very ill."

"Yes," Hanzo said, confirming Genji's thoughts even though there was really no need to. As much as Genji had been going out and shirking his duties to the family, there was no way he could have missed how much their father rested, or how often he went to see the doctor. Hanzo didn't presume to know what was making his father ill, but he had heard 'the C-word' whispered by the servants from time to time. As troubling as that thought was, he kept it to himself. There was no need to go spreading rumors if he couldn't verify them.

Hanzo glanced over at Genji, and he saw that the smile from before was gone from his face, replaced by a look of sadness. It was curious, he was certain that there was no love lost between Father and Genji, but perhaps Genji still had enough love in him to actually care about the man's eventual passing. Or perhaps he was discontent with what would happen when he did die. It had to be that, Hanzo reasoned. The big changes were going to be for the better, Hanzo was insistent on that point, but it was still going to be a change.

"He's going to die soon," Genji said.

"…yes," Hanzo said, after a moment of hesitation.

"I didn't think it would happen so soon," Genji admitted finally, "We're only in our twenties. Neither of us are married yet. I thought he would get old and grey, and live long enough to see his grandchildren."

Honestly, Hanzo had thought the same as well. Their father was like a mountain: tall, strong, unmoving. He was daunting at times, but Hanzo had thought that he would always be there, or at least he would be around for a lot longer. The men in the Shimada family usually lived long lives, staying active until well into their 80s and 90s. Their father wasn't even 60 yet. 

It was Genji who spoke again, after a long silence. Looking away once more, out to the sea, he said, "I'm sure you will be busy then, once you have to take over his duties. Even busier than you are now."

It was a roundabout way to get to the point, but Hanzo understood exactly what Genji was getting at: 'you won't have time for me', and 'you will forget about me'. 

No, Hanzo said silently to himself. He would not forget about Genji. He would always make time for his little brother, even if his schedule was already packed full. But how could he say that in a way that Genji would understand, a way that would be taken as genuine instead of as insincere platitudes? Hanzo struggled to find the right words, to find a way to make his brother understand. He just needed to say the right thing, to make it clear that he did care, that he wanted to help, but his well-trained vocabulary was failing him. Despite his best efforts, he just couldn't think of the well-practiced words needed to smooth things over and make them alright again. 

So he gave up, and instead went with words from his heart, as risky as it might have been. "What happened to us, Genji?"

Genji turned to look at Hanzo and regarded him curiously as he said, "Hmm? What do you mean?"

"We used to be so close," Hanzo explained, "We knew everything about each other. But now I can't even think of the right words to fix this."

"…ah." Genji let that silence hang for a moment, and he looked back to the sunset, resting his arm on his knee. "Some things can't be fixed, Aniki."

Hanzo's fingers tightened into the fabric of his kimono. He also couldn't bring himself to look at Genji, not wanting his brother to see how much those simple words had upset him. He was the heir of the Shimada clan, and he was supposed to be stone-faced. "I can't accept that," he said, "I know I have wronged you, Genji, but I want to fix it. I want us to be brothers again."

"It's not that," Genji said, shaking his head, "We will always be brothers. That is not the problem."

"Then what is?" Hanzo's voice was beginning to crack under the strain of trying to stay calm. "Whatever it is, I can help you. We can overcome it together. That is what brothers do."

"No. This is…what it is." 

The sound of Genji's voice there, it practically broke Hanzo's heart. Whatever was weighing on his younger brother, it had hurt him so thoroughly that he had resigned himself to whatever it was. He had given up entirely, and Hanzo didn't even know what that burden was in the first place. What was hurting his baby brother so badly? It couldn't be his father's impending death, nor could it be Hanzo's increased duties. No, this hurt, it ran deeper. It was something else, something that had been festering for a long, long time.

"Genji-"

"Tell me about your promised person."

That stopped Hanzo. Where had that come all of a sudden. "That is a…strange request." The 'why do you want to know' was left hanging there, not spoken but clearly implied.

Genji shook his head again, but this time he also took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. "Just…talk to me. Tell me about them. What are they feeling right now?"

He wanted to argue more, to press Genji, to find out what was going on. But ultimately, he relented. This was about Genji, not him. If he continued to be there for his brother, then he would open up eventually. Or so Hanzo hoped. He just had to give his brother time, that’s all.

So he sighed, and he thought back. What was the last thing he had felt from his promised person? It had been a couple of weeks, and that most recent flash of emotion hadn't been anything special. What had it been? "They are…frustrated," he said finally, "Something has earned their ire, and they are frustrated that they cannot overcome it easily." It probably wasn't completely accurate, but it felt close.

Genji closed his eyes, and he took in a deep breath. He held it in, focusing, and then he finally released it slowly through his nose. Then, when he was done, he spoke. "Thank you, Aniki. For sharing it with me."

Hanzo took a chance, and he reached over with his left hand, moving to place it over Genji's. It sat there for a moment, the touch unmet, before Genji flipped his hand over to grab Hanzo's hand as well. It was very gentle, just a physical reassurance that everything would be okay. But it was enough, Hanzo decided. It was enough to give Genji the comfort he needed right then.

Hours later, when the brothers returned to the Shimada residence, Hanzo was dragged into a meeting room and berated by his father for what felt like an eternity. There was no physical altercation this time, but that wasn't necessary. The words alone were more than enough to cut into Hanzo's soul, leaving him wounded and bleeding out of his very pores. He was irresponsible, his father said. He had ruined the one chance for the Shimada family to join together with a family of powerful politicians. Now that same family was going to scrutinize the Shimada clan closely for daring to insult their daughter's reputation, and it was all Hanzo's fault. The family would lose millions, and it was all Hanzo's fault. What had he been thinking?

Hanzo had no answer for his father's verbal lashings. He merely sat there quietly, head bowed, taking everything that was thrown at him. It hurt, a lot, but it was alright. Genji was more important than any business partnership of a marriage. The clan came first, and Genji was a part of that clan.

Still, he didn't miss the haunted look Genji gave him hours later, after their father had lost his energy in a coughing fit and had returned to bed. Hanzo knew that look: Genji felt guilty about what had happened. He might have even felt responsible for it.

Hanzo shook his head, regretting that he couldn't speak up to reassure his brother. They were too close to Father's room, if they were overheard then the man would get out of bed and yell at them some more. So he silently mouthed 'it's okay, I'm fine' to Genji before turning to walk down the rest of the hall to where his own room was.

Things would be better someday soon. Hanzo was sure of it.

\---

Jesse was not expecting the mandated extra visit to the clinic. Ever since that particularly nasty accident a few months ago, the one that had put a rather nasty-looking scar on his right shoulder, he had been doing his best to stay out of trouble. He was following orders, keeping his nose clean, and not causing too many problems on base. So the call to the clinic was strange, because it definitely wasn't time for his yearly physical, and he hadn't done anything recently to warrant such a visit.

"Ah, there you are," Angela said as soon as he walked through the door, and she indicated to the chair for Jesse to sit down. The chair, rather than the clinic bed. That meant shots.

"Another mission," Jesse asked cheekily as he sat down, rolling up the sleeve to his flannel shirt (the one that Gabriel called garish, so Jesse always wore it just to spite him) so that Angela would have easy access to his arm for the shots. Admittedly it was strange to hear about a mission from the good doctor, of all places. Usually he was at least briefed on the objective before being shipped off for the relevant vaccinations.

"You would know that better than I would," Angela said simply as she prepped the first syringe. She was young for a doctor, but already she moved with the precision and grace of someone who had been in the practice for decades. If Jesse's heart didn't already belong to someone else, he might have swooned a little at that. He definitely had a thing for people who were good at their job.

"Well I ain't been briefed on it yet," Jesse said, pausing for a moment as Angela gave him the first shot. It didn't hurt too much, but he also didn't want to distract her during the critical moment. But once she was done and carefully setting aside the first syringe, Jesse started talking again. "Why don't you give me a little preview then, doc? Where're they sendin' me?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Angela's mouth, though she decidedly kept her gaze on the needles, rather than on Jesse. But she could multi-task, and as she prepped the second shot she said, "I'm not so sure I should tell you, if they haven't briefed you yet." But from the way she spoke, it was clearly meant in a playful way. For as strict and disciplined as Angela usually was, she did open herself up for banter sometimes too.

Which meant, of course, that Jesse had to meet her with some banter of his own. "C'mon," he said, almost to the point of sounding whiny but it was still in a friendly tone, "You know I can keep a secret. Wouldn't be where I am if I couldn't."

The second shot was given, and Angela set that one aside as well. Then she started to prep the third, and final syringe. "Japan," she said, "If the vaccination request is to be believed."

"Japan, huh? Well ain't that somethin'. I don’t think I've ever been there before." He had heard great stories about the place from other agents, though. It was a very crowded country, but it was very beautiful, especially along the coastline (which, to be fair, was a good portion of Japan in general). Though he figured he wouldn't be there for a beach trip. No, if this was a Blackwatch operation, he would probably be dealing with the seedy underworld of one of the big cities. It was a little disappointing, but he could deal. It wouldn't be the first time he went to a great tourist destination only to not see anything even remotely tourist-y.

But now that he had weaseled that bit of information out of Angela, he couldn't help but push for more. "So, what lucky bastards got put on this mission with me?"

"You know that, officially, I am not allowed to discuss that," Angela said simply. She administered the third shot, which Jesse could have sworn took longer than the other two, before she said, "But unofficially, I will be watching your back." She finally gave Jesse that smile that had been playing at her face for some time, and she tugged on his hat before adding, "And don't ask about the others, I won't violate patient-doctor privilege." 

"Much obliged, doc," Jesse said, taking a hold of his hat with one hand and adjusting it back to the way it normally sat, "I'll keep my lips sealed, until we're briefed on it." 

Still, Jesse buzzed with excitement, eager to hear the mission briefing. He was always excited anytime he was sent to Asia, especially when it was a place he had not been to before. Jesse McCree was no fool: as soon as he had started feeling regular bursts of emotions from his soulmate, he had tried to pinpoint what part of the globe they might be in based on the times of day they were awake. And after years and years of keeping track of times of day and the kinds of emotions felt, all signs pointed to "somewhere along the Asian side of the Pacific Ocean". Well, that or 'night owl', one or the other. But still, having a general idea of where to possibly look meant that Jesse always looked forward to missions from that part of the world. He daydreamed about it sometimes, about what it would be like to go on a mission to rescue some people, only to find that one of the people he saved was his soulmate. How grateful they would be to have someone like Jesse there for them, ready to do anything for them. Even if there was a language barrier at first, that was okay. Jesse could learn, or they could learn English. 

It would work. They would make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear in the chapter, at this point they are about 11 years out from 'current day' in canon, and 1 year out from Genji joining Blackwatch.


	6. Out of time

Jesse was seated at the large, oval table that was regularly used for mission briefings that required a bit more secrecy than usual. The 12-seater table was less than half-full this time, though, with everyone present taking up a few of the chairs near the end where the projector screen was. Jesse was in the second seat on his side of the table, with Angela sitting to his left. She was intently focused on the briefing and not paying any attention to Jesse at all. Across from them sat Ana, who was also focused on the briefing, though she did take a moment to glance over at Jesse and make sure he was paying attention. Jesse did his best not to grumble when he noticed it; she was such a mom sometimes. Next to Ana sat two other Blackwatch members, a man and a woman, ones that Jesse had met before but couldn't recall the names of at the moment.

Gabriel was at the front, going over the details of the mission. Up on the projector screen were three pictures, all on the same slide. The first, and largest, was of their target: Sojiro Shimada, head of the Shimada clan in Japan. Just going by the picture, Jesse could tell he was getting on in years. Though he wasn't too wrinkly yet, the grey hair and grim looks were a dead giveaway. Thankfully they didn't have to kill this poor bastard, Jesse had been expecting that the moment the briefing had started. But no, this was more of an espionage run. Not very exciting, but at least they didn't have to kill an old man.

The second picture was of Shimada's family. It was a few years old, or so Jesse had been told. Shimada still looked largely the same in it, but there were also two young boys in it, probably teenagers. Based on intel they had received, those boys were about Jesse's age, making this picture about ten years old. But it was hard to find recent pictures of either of the two Shimada sons- Hanzo and Genji- because their father was pretty insistent on keeping them out of the limelight. Shimada's wife was drop-dead gorgeous, though. Even though she had to be in her 40s in that picture at the very least, she didn't look a day over 25. Jesse would have to remind himself not to get flirty with her, he didn't want to make the mission end in failure.

The last picture was of Shimada and another man, one only known to them as 'Yasu'. That man wasn't of the Shimada clan, but he had very close dealings with the Shimadas, particularly with Sojiro. All signs pointed to him being Sojiro's soulmate, which meant that he would be of interest to Blackwatch as well. Given the nature of the mission, Gabriel wanted to secure Yasu as well. A soulmate would know the instant something went wrong, so keeping that soulmate under close watch was vital in a mission like this.

"We're going to be undercover for quite a while on this one," Gabriel said, continuing the briefing, "It's taken years to even get Shimada to agree to meeting us. Business deals are slow-going over there, so we're planning on at least a month just for the initial contact, if not longer. The Shimada clan has eyes and ears everywhere in Hanamura, so it is vital that you do not break your character at any time. Even one slip-up could send this whole thing south. You hear me?"

Jesse didn't particularly like the way that Gabriel was looking at him specifically as he said that last part. Still, he forced his irritation down as he tipped his hat in Gabriel's direction and said "Loud and clear, boss."

Ana shot him a wry grin, which earned a disapproving look from Gabriel. The mental 'argument' between the two of them lasted but a second, though, before Gabriel sighed and gave up on it. Instead he returned to his briefing, using a laser-pointer to indicate to the picture of Shimada's family, particularly to the younger of the two boys. "Our sources have told us that the younger son, Genji, seems disillusioned with the family's business. He might be our way of getting the information we need. McCree, you're going to be focusing on him. Butter him up and befriend him, that southern charm of yours might do the trick. But-" Gabriel's face suddenly turned very serious, and he pointed an accusing finger at Jesse. "Don't flirt too much with him, and definitely don't sleep with him."

Jesse had the presence of mind to look mock-offended at that, even going so far as to hold a hand to his chest like he had been shot. "Now I'm hurt! You really think I'd sink so low as to sleep with a target?"

"Yes." The answer was blunt enough that it earned a snicker from one of the Blackwatch agents. "We don't need a repeat of what happened in Paris, so keep your dick in your pants."

Jesse's mock-offense turned into actual offense when he said, "Aww c'mon, she's the one who came onto me!" 

It was true, technically. Yes, he had flirted shamelessly with her, but she had been the one to start taking things further. Not that he had minded _too_ much- she had been drop-dead gorgeous and still popped up in his dirtier thoughts from time to time- but going along with it had been vital to staying undercover. If he had backed off after all of that flirting, she would have known something was wrong. Jesse McCree was nothing if not thorough in his work.

The glare Gabriel shot him told him that wasn't the point, though. So he made a 'tch' noise as he crossed his arms in front of himself, not even bothering to cover up his annoyance. "Fine, fine, whatever you say boss."

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Gabriel nodded and stepped back to once more address everyone in the room. "Filks, Smith, Amari, you three are going to be the bodyguards along with McCree. While he's off keeping busy with the Shimada boy, you three are going to be my eyes and ears in that castle. Keep your mouths shut and your mind open, and let me know of anything you find out."

All three of them nodded carefully. The two Blackwatch members seemed somber, but Ana had a small smile playing at her lips. She was older than most, and well-versed in missions like this. If anyone fucked things up, it wouldn't be her. Out of everyone here, she was probably the one Jesse trusted the most. Even moreso than Gabriel, and that man was practically a father to Jesse by this point. Though that probably just made her Jesse's mom, if Gabriel was his dad. And then Fareeha would be his little sister or something. 

What a wonderfully messed-up family they were, Jesse said to himself silently.

Finally, Gabriel turned to Angela, and he said, "Doctor, you're going to be going as yourself in all-but-name. You're going to be posing as my personal doctor, supposedly treating my unnamed malady. We're going to fake a couple incidents of illness, and hopefully that will get you access to their medical facilities." He held up a small flash drive for her to see. "If you manage to get in, just plug this thing in and let it run for about five minutes. That should get us all the information off of the hard drives. Think you can do that for us?"

Angela looked a little apprehensive at that instruction, but she nodded. Out of everyone there, she had run the fewest missions with Blackwatch before, and she undoubtedly had problems with the way things were run. Blackwatch wasn't squeaky clean like Overwatch was, and the good doctor was someone who had problems with a little bit of dirt here and there. Jesse doubted that she was a good choice for an undercover mission, but he understood Gabriel's decision: they were going to be halfway around the world with no outside support, so having someone to treat them if anyone got hurt was vital. The doctors in Blackwatch were good, but not as good as Angela.

Once again, Gabriel addressed the whole room. "We're going to be meeting the Shimadas in two weeks, so start preparing for your trip. All weapons should be small and concealable, especially since we're passing through the usual secur-"

Gabriel's sentence cut off suddenly as he frowned. He held a finger up to the communicator in his right ear and looked off to a point that was vaguely over in a corner behind everyone. Whatever he was hearing, it couldn't be good news, because his face was quickly twisting into a scowl. "I'm briefing them right now Jack," Gabriel said suddenly, and he turned to walk away from the table, giving himself a small bit of privacy to talk. Or argue, maybe, that look on Gabriel's face hadn't been promising.

Jesse glanced over to Ana, who just cast him a concerned look. Whatever was going on, it couldn't be good, especially not if Ana of all people was worried. Jesse opened his mouth and started to say something to her, but the sentence died in his throat when her eyes suddenly went wide. She turned to look at Gabriel, which everyone else did as soon as she did, and a half-second later Gabe suddenly shouted out, "What do you mean 'he's dead'?!"

\---

It was a warm autumn day when Hanzo laid his father to rest.

The funeral was, as expected, large. People from several organizations, both official and not, stopped by to pay their respects to the departed head of the Shimada clan. Hanzo would have expected there to be hushed dealings of some sort- that was common for this crowd, they rarely ever stopped with the business talk- but surprisingly everyone was quiet that day. Apparently all it took to stop the shady business deals was the death of one of the ringleaders. Funny, that.

Hanzo stood tall and strong that day. He was well-versed in hiding his emotions, so everyone saw exactly what he wanted them to see: a son with steeled emotions, strong enough to hide his grief and be a pillar of the community. Even as many others quietly wept, Hanzo didn't shed a single tear. Later he would be praised for that effort, congratulated for how strong he was.

What nobody knew was that Hanzo wasn't actually that upset about his father's passing.

It was sad, yes, but Sojiro Shimada's death had been a long-time coming. Nobody was surprised by his passing, least of all Hanzo. He had spilled his tears over his father's death months ago, the night after he had learned of his father's illness. He would miss his father, but grief was not the primary thought on his mind. 

Worry plagued Hanzo's thoughts. He hadn't realized it until recently, but his father had gone to great lengths to protect both of the Shimada boys from the ire of the clan elders. Hanzo for his reluctance to settle down with a suitable bride, and Genji for his…well, everything. And without the father there to carry the burdens of the sons, those sons were left to fend for themselves. Hanzo was worried about what the clan might do, now that they were free to put pressure on the boys. It made a thick unease settle into his gut, churning and bubbling up and making him feel sick. They really were on their own now.

Hanzo looked over to his left, where his mother stood. Beautiful as always, she was just as somber as he was, betraying no emotion whatsoever. On her left was a man with greying hair- his mother's promised person, he realized, of course he would be here right now. Looking more closely, Hanzo could see how the man's hand was at his mother's elbow, offering her a small but welcoming gesture of comfort. In turn, Hanzo's mother acted as if she did not notice it at all, but Hanzo could see her grip on the sleeve of her kimono tighten just a little bit. 

Her future was uncertain as well. She was beyond the age for bearing children, and she was related to the Shimada clan by marriage rather than blood, so there was no guarantee that she would stay welcome on the castle grounds. It was possible that she could be gone from Hanamura entirely before the end of the month, depending on what the clan wanted done with her. She had been loyal and honorable, though, so Hanzo was sure her life was safe. Maybe she would finally be able to live with her promised person. That was a nice thought, he decided.

Next, Hanzo looked to his right. Genji was there, and he had even managed to put on a suit, though his hair was still that ridiculous shade of green. He wasn't currently crying, but Hanzo could see the dried tear streaks on his face. Huh. For as much as Genji had disliked their father, apparently he did care after all. That was good to know. Though the fact that Genji had been crying was worrying, Hanzo was sure that the clan elders would use that as an excuse to talk about how weak-willed Genji was. That thought just fed into Hanzo's worries more.

Suddenly, just after he had turned his attention back to the urn that held his father's ashes, Hanzo began to feel a little prickle at the back of his mind, a feeling that quickly turned into a warmth that spread throughout him. It was a familiar feeling by now, one that had comforted Hanzo before and would likely comfort him many times in the coming months. His promised person, whoever they were, was thinking about him and sending him positive feelings. Hanzo's worries must have been loud, if his promised person had noticed them over the weak connection they currently shared. Hanzo closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on that point of connection between them. He forced the worry out of his mind, and he tried to send positive feelings back, as if to say 'I am fine, everything is alright'. And maybe a little bit of 'thank you' was mixed in there too.

It was hard, and harder times were ahead. But the warmth he felt in his chest made him think that everything would turn out alright in the end. He just had to endure the worst of the storm and come out of it on the other side.

\---

"Well this sure is a shitshow," Jesse muttered under his breath as he watched Jack and Gabriel argue for what had to be the tenth time that month.

Ever since that mission to Japan had been abruptly called off, Gabriel had been on-edge. He was upset, Jesse could tell. That mission had taken a lot of planning, and Gabriel really hated it when hard work didn't get results. It had to be especially annoying, given that the plan had failed before they had even left the base. Everything had been banking on meeting with the head of the Shimada clan, and with that head gone and the replacement not answering their requests for a meeting, everything was stalled.

Jesse got it, he really did. But Jack didn't, and that meant fights. Lots of fights.

Fights Jesse normally avoided, as he didn't want to pick a side between the two men who had practically been his father figures ever since he had joined Overwatch. He was pretty sure that was why Ana was avoiding them too: she wasn't about to pick between her closest friend and her soulmate. A shame, since her cooler head would definitely help right about now.

It was also a shame because it meant that Jesse couldn't quietly sneak away, as he had been called to Gabriel's office for a debriefing on another mission just before Jack had come in and started shit again.

"You need to stop storming into _my_ office and making demands all the time! I have a secretary for a reason!"

"I'm not going to schedule meetings with you, Gabe!"

"Why not? Everyone else has to!"

"I'm your superior officer."

"Oh, now you're going to pull rank on me? Is that how it's going to be?"

"I will if I have to! I know you're still getting reports from Hanamura, even after I told you to drop it-"

"It's still viable, Jack! We just need to push a little more, arrange a meeting with the new leader-"

"It's over! Done! We'll find another way to deal with the smuggling in that area! Just drop it, Gabe!"

'Trouble in paradise,' Jesse said silently to himself as he sank a little lower in his chair. This must have been why there were rules against dating co-workers.

The comm on Gabriel's desk buzzed, alerting everyone in the room to an incoming call. Both of the super-soldiers fell silent, and Gabriel practically snatched it off the table. He pushed the talk button and growled "What" into the speaker.

It was Ana's voice on the other end. "Are you done with McCree yet? He needs to go to the shooting range."

Gabriel glanced over at Jesse, seemingly noticing him for the first time since the fight had started. Jesse, who had sunk low into his chair, gave Gabriel a lop-sided smile and a little wave. Gritting his teeth, Gabriel said, "He's on his way," into the comm before flipping it off. Then, to Jesse specifically, he said, "Get out."

Jesse didn't have to be told twice. He jumped out of that chair and walked "naturally but trying to hurry it up" as quickly as he could to the door. Once he was out and the door was shut behind him, he practically bolted down the hall, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the office as he could before the shouting started again.

Down at the shooting range, Ana already had their gear out. Jesse always kept Peacemaker on him, a habit he had held onto since his days with Deadlock, but there was protective gear to wear. Goggles, headphones, stuff like that. Ana also had a couple other guns out, including her sniper rifle, which she was in the process of cleaning as Jesse stepped in. She looked up at him, and she must have noticed how out of breath Jesse was, because she said, "You didn't have to run here, it is only me today."

"If you heard the shitstorm goin' down in there, you woulda run too," Jesse said flatly, stepping over to the table full of gear. It needed to be adjusted slightly, to fit his frame, so he started on that task.

"I did hear it," Ana said, tapping the side of her head with a gloved finger.

It took Jesse a moment to get what she meant, but when he did he practically slapped himself mentally. Of course she knew, she would be the first to know anytime something went down between Jack and Gabriel. Even if she didn't know exactly what was being said, it was hard to miss how heated those arguments got, especially if you happened to share an emotional connection with one of the parties.

"I'm tired of their dumbass jelly fights," Jesse said, figuring that Ana of all people would understand his ire, "They need to sit down and talk about the real problem."

Ana looked at Jesse curiously. She had stopped cleaning her gun for the moment, clearly more invested in the conversation. "I do not disagree with you, but 'Jelly fights'?"

Jesse was no stranger to having to explain some of his idioms to people, but it had been a while since he had needed to explain one to Ana. It was never really clear if she actually understood him or just humored him and didn't worry about what the saying actually meant, though. The fact that she was actually asking about it made Jesse worry slightly, because it meant that Ana actually cared enough about the topic to want to be clear about what was being said.

So Jesse stopped what he was doing, though he kept the goggles in his hands, and he started to explain. "It's like…okay, say there's a couple, and they're fightin' real bad. It's one of those long fights, where they stay mad at each other for days 'n days. But life doesn't stop just because they're fightin' they still gotta work 'n pay bills 'n stuff. So they go to get groceries, and one of 'em grabs some jelly, and the other makes some stupid comment about not likin' that flavor of jelly. So they start fighting over the jelly, but the fight's not really about the jelly. They're just mad at each other and the jelly give 'em an excuse to fight again. That's a 'jelly fight'."

That earned a raised eyebrow from Ana, but before Jesse could talk again and try to explain it further she just shook her head. "Such a silly thing," she said instead, and she returned to reassembling her rifle. Jesse wasn't sure if she meant that the idiom was silly, or that the fighting was. Probably both, knowing her.

A silence fell between the two of them, and Jesse just stared down at the goggles in his hands. It wasn't just the mission, it was something deeper than that. Something Jesse couldn't quite understand. And that lack of understanding, that worried him. He couldn't brace himself for the worst if he didn't know what the worst was.

"I don't get it," he said, and he realized he was just babbling on but he couldn't stop himself, "They're in love, ain't they? So why're they fightin' like this?"

"It's how they sort out their problems," Ana said calmly, her attention still on her rifle, "This is how it has always been: they get mad, they yell for a while, and eventually they make up. They're both stubborn, and that stubbornness makes it hard for them to compromise. But they will come around, they always do."

"But how do you know," Jesse said, finally looking at Ana fully. He didn't even bother trying to hide how worried he was, and he was sure Ana could see it in him. She always read him like an open book. "How do you know this ain't the big one, the one that finally drives 'em apart?"

"Because I can feel it," Ana said. Her hands stopped, and she looked up at Jesse once more. Her face was stern, but not unkind. She was speaking what she felt to be the truth, and she felt no need to sugarcoat it. She never did. "It's hard to understand, if you haven't fully-opened the connection with your soulmate. The initial connection is very weak, and can only handle one emotion at a time. But I can feel it. I feel _everything_. I feel the intricacies to every emotion Gabriel feels, and through that I can understand him.

"Gabriel is angry. He is absolutely furious right now. He is hurt. His pride is bruised. He wants to argue. But underneath all of that, he still loves Jack. That love has never wavered, not once. And as long as that love is there, he will always come around eventually. That is why I do not worry, Jesse McCree. Love doesn't fix everything, but it gives a good foundation to build upon."

That…was pretty deep, actually. Deeper than what Jesse was expecting. He considered Ana's words for a minute, mulling over them and what they meant for Gabriel and Jack. And eventually, he said, "Love is a foundation to build upon, hmm? Those are some pretty-soundin' words right there."

"They may sound 'pretty', but they are true," Ana said. Her rifle was complete, and she set it down on the table in front of her. "But enough about that, we have some training to do."

Deciding that Ana was right, Jesse tipped his hat towards her. "Yes'm," he said, and then he removed the hat entirely so he could slip the goggles on.

But even as they worked, those words stuck with him. 'Love is a good foundation to build upon'. 

Hopefully it was good enough to weather the storm that was 'Gabriel and Jack's arguments'.

\---

Fall passed to winter, and winter into spring. Six long months, longer than anything Hanzo had experienced before. Six months of being scrutinized, of being criticized by the elders, of being tested to make absolutely sure that he was ready to lead the clan. The days were so long, so tiring. By the end of it all Hanzo could do was collapse into bed and fall into a dreamless sleep. 

But he could endure. If it protected his mother, and if it protected Genji, he could endure.

Finally, it all came to an end. One day that spring, while the cherry blossoms were in bloom and the world was full of rejuvenation and growth, Hanzo was called to speak to the elders. 

He was no fool. He knew that, when the elders called for him to speak to them, that he would be doing very little speaking. They would be the ones to control the conversation, and Hanzo had no choice but to accept what he was told. He had no say anymore; only the will of the clan mattered.

Hanzo stepped into the room, a room he had been in many times before. He took his seat at one end of the long table, with seven older gentlemen sitting opposite of him. They were all relatives of his: uncles, cousins, one brother to his grandfather. They were all from branches of the Shimada family, technically, but they collectively held the power at the moment. Until they declared Hanzo fit to lead and handed that power over to him, he had to do what they requested of him. And in the last six months, they had requested much. So, so much.

At the very middle of the group sat the eldest, his grandfather's brother. Fourteen months separated this man and Hanzo's grandfather, and yet it had made all the difference in the world. It was a slight that the man had never overcome, and he delighted in using his temporary power to punish Hanzo for all of the slights he had committed over the years. It was a punishment Hanzo took without complaint, for he knew the alternative was much worse. The other six were more sympathetic, more understanding, but this man was the worst. And he was the one who always spoke at these meetings.

"Hanzo," the elderly man said in a firm voice, "You have done well these past months. We feel that you are nearly ready to take over as the head of the Shimada clan."

Hanzo remained stony-faced. He had heard these platitudes before, he knew that 'nearly ready' did not mean 'ready'. Power was not going to be given over today. No, today there was going to be another request. So Hanzo waited silently, his hands resting in loose fists at his knees. He looked every bit the part of a 'young lord', he knew that his image was not what was in question today.

The elderly man paused only briefly, regarding Hanzo's lack of a reaction for a mere moment before the corner of his mouth twitched into a frown. Hanzo's firm resolve had no doubt bothered the man, as he liked to get a reaction whenever he could. Especially negative reactions, those drew sadistic smiles out of the elderly man. "You have done well," the man repeated, "But your brother, well, you have no doubt heard of his transgressions."

"I have," Hanzo said simply. There was no point in denying it, the elders had talked to him about it several times.

"Good." That touch of a frown was gone, replaced by a grin that worried Hanzo. That grin, it was never a good sign. "Then surely you understand that something must be done about it."

"I…do not follow," Hanzo said, his brow pinching forward in confusion, "If you wish for me to speak with him again-"

The elder held a hand out, stopping Hanzo mid-sentence. "Enough. He has had plenty of warnings. It is time to cut him loose."

Hanzo's heart began to race. They were being vague, but Hanzo got the meaning of their words. Genji was out of chances, and the clan was about to do something very drastic. His baby brother was in danger, and all it would take was a single word from these elders to send Genji's life crashing down around him. Literally.

He had to stop it.

"Wait," Hanzo said suddenly, his voice betraying his emotions. He watched his grandfather's brother grin even wider than before, with a terrible grin that told Hanzo he was trapped. But he had to try. "Let me talk to him once more," Hanzo said, trying to bring his tone back under control, "I can convince him to fall back in line."

The other six elders looked at each other questioningly. The decision had already been made, but Hanzo dared to question it. It was a dangerous game he was playing. He knew he only had so much room to push with, and if he didn't choose his battles well then he could end up hurting a lot of people. He needed to play this terrible game like an expert.

But even more worrying than the hushed whispers of the six elders was the unsettling silence of the oldest one. His grin remained, and a moment too late Hanzo realized he had stepped right into a trap. "Very well," the elder said, "We will allow you one last chance. However-"

The elder signaled to a servant nearby, who stepped forward. She carried a sword in her hands, and she set it down in front of Hanzo before stepping away quickly. Hanzo gazed down at the sword, a sense of dread building within him. It wasn't his sword, it was another one, with a black-and-blue handle and sheathe. This sword wasn't meant for practice. It was meant for killing.

Hanzo couldn't bring himself to look at the elders. All he could do was stare at the sword in front of him. But through the dread, he could still hear the words the elder spoke to him: "If you should fail, if he will not listen, then you need to handle the matter. Personally. The Shimada clan will tolerate no stains on its name, be it rebelliousness or a reluctance to follow orders."

\---

Jesse was anxious, and he didn't know why.

Well, alright. He had a good idea of what it was. His soulmate was anxious, that was probably it. But Jesse had been high-strung for the last couple of days, and he was sure it wasn't just because of his soulmate. The whole damn base had been on-edge, waiting for the next shouting match between Gabriel and Jack. It was absolutely miserable, and Jesse was tempted to just drag the two men to a closet and shove them in there until they sorted out their problems. Even if they would probably kill him after the fact.

He didn't get the chance to do more than wishful thinking, though. One spring morning, probably six months or so after that briefing for a mission he had never gone on, Jesse got called to Gabriel's office. It was unexpected, as Jesse hadn't been on a mission in nearly three weeks, but he went down there anyway.

Not only was Gabriel waiting for him, but so were Ana and Angela. It was a good thing Jesse had actually read the message and geared up first, because the other three in the room looked ready to go. Gabriel even gave him an approving nod before he jumped right into business, tapping away at some keys and pulling up some images on a small display at his desk.

Jesse recognized the man in the pictures. It was Genji Shimada.

"At 0500 hours this morning I got news from our spies in Hanamura," Gabriel said, flipping through the pictures he had available. All of them were recent pictures of Genji, mostly around an arcade and a couple shops, all in the same district. "It's not good, I'll tell you that upfront. We've run out of time. This is no longer an intel mission, it's a rescue."

"A rescue," Angela said, sounding worried, "What do you mean? Are our agents in trouble?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, nobody's compromised, though after this mission we're gonna have to pull out of Hanamura entirely just to be safe. The one we're rescuing is this guy here." He tapped the display, indicating to one of the pictures of Genji. "He's pissed off too many people, and they're planning a way to discreetly off him. We're lucky we even have this information, it's being kept very hush-hush. And because of that, we don't have any details. We don't know when they're gonna do it, how they're gonna do it, or if we even have time to send a warning to him. So we're going in now and pulling him out."

Jesse raised a hand to get Gabriel's attention. "Not to be a bother, boss, but does this guy even know about us? I remember the brief from before, I got the impression that we were supposed to keep him out of the loop too."

"Genji Shimada is too powerful of an asset to pass up," Gabriel said firmly, "He's the son of the former-head of the clan, and he undoubtedly has tons of information on their dealings. And besides that, he's a trained warrior. It won't be hard to get him to join Overwatch, once he finds out that the other option is 'death by his family's hand'."

Death or service. That situation sure sounded familiar to Jesse.

On the one hand, this mission didn't sit right with him. He didn't like the idea of being so underhanded in recruitment. But on the other hand, if this man's life was in danger, then he deserved to be rescued. Hell, maybe they could rescue him and then give him the choice of joining or going into hiding. There were plenty of places in the world to hide. If nothing else, they could get Genji to safety.

So, Jesse relented. He gave Gabriel a nod, and he left it at that. Angela and Ana also nodded in agreement, though Jesse had expected no less from them. Ana would go wherever Gabriel went, he needed someone to watch his back. And Angela, she was a huge sucker for saving people. This was absolutely the perfect team for what Gabriel had in mind. He really knew how to pick his teams, Jesse said silently to himself.

"Good," Gabriel said, "I've already got a ship ready to take us over there. But there's one last thing you need to know:" He paused, looking around at the group again. "We're doing this without authorization, which means no answering calls from HQ until we're on the flight home."

Ana immediately scowled at Gabriel. "You can't ask that of me! I'm the one Jack is going to go to about this, you know he will!"

"I'm still asking," Gabriel said, standing strong under the gaze that had Angela and Jesse shrinking away. But even more surprising, Gabriel's voice turned soft there, to something more like an apology. Or as close to an apology as Gabriel Reyes could get. "Please, Ana. I would talk to him, you know I would. But there's no time. Every minute we spend here could be life and death for this kid."

Jesse knew that, ultimately, Gabriel was right. Jack would argue, he would try to control the mission, and Gabriel would have to fight tooth and nail to get things to his specifications. It was a constant song-and-dance with those two, and if things were as serious as Gabriel said they were then there just wasn't time for that. And there was no time for the Mexican standoff that was going on right there in the office, either. So, Jesse was the one to break the silence, saying, "Well then, if it's as serious as you say, then I reckon we should get a move on."

Ana did not respond. She continued to glare at Gabriel, who just stared her down in return. A moment passed, and Jesse was sure there was some weird-soulmate-connection-thing going on between them, because even as they said nothing he could see the expressions on their faces wavering. But ultimately it was Ana who broke first, and she gave up with a sigh. "Fine. But you are talking to Jack when we get back. I am not fixing things between you two."

Gabriel let out a sigh as well, but his was a sigh of relief. He did not say 'thank you', though judging by the twitch that pulled at the corner of Ana's mouth it had been said silently. "Right," Gabriel said, addressing everyone in the room once more, "If there are no more objections, then we've got a flight to catch."

Nobody spoke up, though Jesse did give Gabriel a reassuring look. Regardless of how this turned out, he would be right there, supporting his boss' decision.

And, hopefully, they would have a fifth voice to help sway Jack away from 'kick all of their asses for insubordination' as punishment for what they were about to do.


End file.
